


Alpha

by Akikofuma



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Oneshot turned multi-chapter somehow, Oral Sex, bottom!daryl, insecure!daryl, possessive!Rick, top!rick
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-07
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-05-12 10:36:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 31,058
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5663179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Akikofuma/pseuds/Akikofuma
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rick and Daryl have been secretly meeting up in empty cell blocks to get rid of some sexual frustration. But for Rick, things quickly turn into much more than just sex. Thinking Daryl wants nothing but the no strings attached fun, Rick tries to be happy with what he's given, and fails. But it turns out, he might not be the only one wanting more. / Explicit Sexual Content! Top!Rick, Bottom!Daryl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this is my first attempt at a Walking Dead fanfiction. I hope it isn't too horrible to read.

They always come together like this. Angry, desperate and scared. Like two storms violently clashing against each other, combining their energy, their very emotions. Rick could almost feel the air around them vibrating, as if simply being close to them was enough to make it move. 

Never had he felt anything like this in his entire life. 

His love for Lori had been gentle, soft, almost timid. He had loved her so much once, had wanted to protect her, and keep her safe. The love had turned into anger all too soon after the world had gone to hell. But he had never hated Lori, not really. It had taken Rick a while to understand that you needed to love someone deeply to be able to hate them.

And Rick hated Daryl every bit as much as he loved him. Hated the way the male got under his skin. How he made him go crazy with jealousy when he watched the hunter and Carol together, so familiar with each other in a way Rick envied. Hated how he made him worry whenever he couldn't keep an eye on the brunette male. And what he hated the most, what Rick could just barely stand without going insane, was how Daryl made him feel when they once more came together like this.

Teeth and tongues clashing in a merciless battle for dominance that neither of them was willing to lose. He was so close to him, Rick could inhale the scent he had become addicted to, Daryl's scent, mixed with the smell of earth, and sweat, and a hint of blood. Hunting. He was hunting, Rick thought, before he came to me.

Strong hands were running through his hair, curling into the fine locks and tugging, making Rick release a groan into the kiss, his own hands tightening on the slim hips he was gripping, desperately trying to anchor himself to reality, to the cold prison cell they were in, the cold concrete that pressed against his back as Daryl kept him pinned to the wall.

He hated how close they were, bodies firmly pressed together, and how distant he still felt to the beloved being in his arms. Daryl always had his back, of course. Was always there when Rick needed him, though he wasn't exactly sure just how Daryl managed to always be around when shit hit the fan. But even when they were just sitting outside, spending time with each other, Daryl never displayed the open affection and playfulness Rick witnessed whenever Carol was around him. And, despite knowing it was irrational, he hated Carol for it. 

“Come on.” Daryl hissed, eager hands now running along the former officer's sides, over his thighs and upwards again, brushing against his groin. “Need ya' now.”

Rick wanted nothing more than to slow this down, to lay Daryl in his bed and worship every inch of his body with his hands and mouth. But that wasn't what the redneck wanted. He had tried it once, had tried to go slow. The result had been him on his back, Daryl on top, riding his length like a beast in heat, panting and grunting with every jerk of his hips. He couldn't say he hadn't enjoyed it without it being a straight out lie. Watching Daryl sliding up and down his length, slim hips turning and twisting as he quietly keened in pleasure was one of them most beautiful things the sheriff had ever seen in his life. 

And yet, he couldn't help but want more, more of this feelings, more of this connection, more of Daryl, and everything the man was. He wanted to lay down with him at night, and wake up with him in the morning. He wanted to kiss Daryl goodbye when he went on a run, and embrace him when he returned. Wanted Daryl to be his in every way possible. 

But Daryl didn't want anything but a quick fuck, rough and dirty. No feelings, no strings attached. Just sex, no foreplay, no cuddling. 

“Get on your fuckin' knee's then.” He growls, shoving at the other male and sending him tumbling back. “Bend over.”

The redneck complied immediately, pushing down his pants hastily and moving to his hands and knee's, offering himself, or at least his body, to Rick. The older man wanted nothing more than to sink into him, wrap his arms around his chest and pull him upwards, plaster his chest against the soft skin of Daryl's back. Wanted to whisper words of love and adoration into his ear as he fucked him slowly, taking his time to show just how much Daryl mattered. 

Slipping out of his own pants, Rick moved to kneel behind the tracker, calloused hands running over the firm mounds before him, taking just a second to appreciate the warmth and softness before sliding his fingers to the tight ring of muscles. 

“Already did that, jus' get on with it.” Daryl groans out, thrusting his hips backwards, demanding more. Rick can feel his chest clench with excitement and disappointment alike. The image of Daryl spread out on his bed, working his fingers into his opening, stretching himself none too gently was enough to make his cock twitch almost painfully. At the same time, the fact that this would be even shorter than usual make Rick want to scream. These moments were too short, too far between as it was. And now, he would have even less of Daryl than usually.

But he cannot deny this beautiful being anything, nothing at all, and so he spits in his hand, slicking himself up as much as possible, because he could never hurt Daryl, even when he wanted to, trembling at the impatient moan the male lets out. And then he's thrusting forward, sinking into the tight heat that is Daryl, letting out a harsh moan as he's fully sheeted. 

“Fuck yes.” The breathy words are enough to spur the sheriff into action, grabbing those slender hips and pounding into the tight channel, groaning and panting as he felt velvety walls clench around him, listened to the sounds of pleasure he was bringing forth from the chapped lips he had been kissing moments before.

“Ya like that?” He growls, suddenly angry once more, picking up his pace until its punishing, probably painful, and yet the only reaction he gets is more growls and moans. “Ya like when I fuck ya hard, Daryl? I know ya do, baby. Tell me how much ya love it.”

“Fuck, love it so much, need it, fuckfuckfuckfuck...” Daryl replies, his voice low and raspy, hands clawing helplessly at the floor as Rick drives into him again and again. The concrete rips up their knee's, he can feel the blood rubbing against his skin, can feel the wound opening, deepening with ever surge of his hips. But he doesn't care, can't care, because no matter how good this feels, Rick is too angry to really enjoy it. The pain is a welcome sensation, making controlling himself so much easier. He's livid, feeling flames burning within his blood from the intensity of his emotions. Never had he been this angry. 

Angry at himself for loving Daryl. Angry at Daryl for not loving him in return. Angry at the world, for becoming this way. Angry because he was so very alone.

Gripping at the brown strands of hair before him, he forces the others head back with a harsh tug. Rick isn't sure what he wants more, to fuck Daryl into the ground, or beat the living shit out of him, but decides that he's already in the middle of this, and he could beat him up later. 

He feels the body below him starting to tremble, moans growing desperate as heated walls convulse around him. His tracker is close, so very close, while Rick can't seem to get anywhere near climax, and that serves only to infuriate him more. And then Daryl is coming, screaming out his pleasure, emptying himself onto the floor. 

The former officer gives him a few minutes to come down from his high, enjoying the twitching muscle around his dick despite his inability to come. When he pulls back, blue eyes are watching him, Daryl having turned his head to look over his shoulder, an eyebrow raised in confusion at Rick's still hard member. 

Rick shrugs it off, slowly raising himself up to stand, turning his head in search of his pants. He catches movement in the corner of his eyes, once more bringing his attention to the hunter. Daryl was now on his knee's, running a hand through his hair, not quite looking at him.

“Ya want me to..” He offers quietly. It surprises Rick. As odd as it was, Daryl had never sucked him off, never actually touched Rick with his hands neither, as if somehow by doing so, he would become what he called a 'fag'. It was almost laughable to Rick that the other man still insisted he wasn't gay, or at least bisexual, even when he had a dick buried balls deep in his ass. Still, Rick had fantasized about the tracker sucking him off an almost unsettling amount of times.

“Nah, 'm good.” He replies anyway, because he knows if he allows himself this only once, he would never get enough of it. And then, if Daryl never offered again, he'd be stuck with another aching need he couldn't sooth. 

Picking up his clothes, Rick starts to dress, about to pull his shirt on when Daryl halts his movements. He standing now, naked and beautiful, before him, grabbing the wrist of his right hand. He's still not looking at the sheriff, and its concerning. The redneck wasn't one to back down, or be intimidated, or fuck, even scared. But something was different about him, as he held on to Rick's wrist almost timidly, shifting his weight from one leg to the other in his uncertainty. 

“Was it.. I mean.. Didn't ya..” He starts, but then breaks off, shaking his head almost in defeat. He doesn't need to continue, Rick knows exactly what Daryl is asking, because Rick knows Daryl well enough by now to finish even the shortest of his attempts at conversation. Not as good as Carol, he thinks, but well enough. His anger from before is suddenly blown away, almost overwhelmed by the vulnerability he was suddenly seeing. 

“I did, Daryl. It ain't that.” He quickly replies, brows furrowed as he looks at the man, trying to will him to look up, to be able to see those blue, blue eyes and maybe get at least a hint of what is going on. They never spent time with each other after these intimate moments, and if possible, the hunter was the first one out the door. 

“Then why..?” The question is spoken so quietly Rick can barely hear it, but he does, and now he is forced to answer, can't pretend to not have heard. 

“Just... a lot on my mind right now.” He lies, shaking his head as he pulls his hand free from the weak grasp his wrist is encased in. He hated having to lie, but what else was he going to do? For whatever reason Daryl was being so open, Rick had no doubt that this new found tenderness would not last very long. After all, the other male had never made any indication of being interested in anything but their short, almost violent intimacy. He couldn't tell him of all the things he felt, for he would lose him, and that would surely be his death. 

“Could'a told me ya weren't in the mood.” Daryl grunted, now sounding almost insulted. 

“I was in the mood.” Rick huffed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just couldn't.. couldn't focus.” 

“A'right.” Was the only reply he was given, and then Daryl was dressed and out the door, leaving Rick behind. The former sheriff sighed as he finished pulling on his own clothing. He didn't know how much longer he'd be able to keep this up, this pain and emptiness he felt whenever Daryl left the dirty cell they used for their couplings. Maybe, the short period of lust and burning hot pleasure were no longer enough. A few months ago, they had seemed a fair trade for these moments with Daryl, but Rick felt that he was slowly coming to the breaking point, no longer able to tolerate having only Daryl's body, preferring to have nothing over just a little. Like an alcoholic refusing the last sip from the bottle of whiskey he found, knowing that it would never be enough, that it would only intensify the desperate yearning. 

But he wasn't strong enough to end this, not just yet. He could take more, more pain, more abuse, more of everything. Just a little more.

~~~*~~~

 

Hunting had been a bitch.

Daryl had gotten caught in a storm, too far from the prison to turn back and seek shelter, forced to huddle under a tree and wait, hoping that no herd made its way past him until the rain stopped. He had been lucky, no walkers had crossed his way, but a big ass deer had made its way through the forest only a few feet away from the hunter once the storm had passed.

He had taken it down quickly, and then hauled ass back to the prison. He was long overdue, the sun already standing dangerously low. He had made it back just in time, just as the last rays of light threatened to fade away, running right into the arms of his best friend. Rick had been about to go out and look for Daryl himself by the looks of it. The man that normally stuck to farming these days was wearing his gun, a rare sight, making his intentions oh so clear. 

“Daryl.” Was all the man said as they stood before each other, crystal blue eyes looking him up and down, examining him. He never did understand why Rick always got so pissed when he was late, but he did understand that this rage was fueled by worry alone. Rick just cared, and didn't know how else to show it. 

“'ey.” He grunted, slowly laying the deer's corpse onto the floor before straightening again. “Sorry 'm late. Got caught up in the storm.” 

“Thought ya might have.” Rick answered, running a hand through his hair, and Daryl couldn't help but watch the motion, the memory of how soft those locks were still prominent on his mind. He knew then and there that he'd need to see the other man tonight, not in his cell, or Daryl's, but in the cell he had come to think of as their cell. 

“Mm.” Not knowing what else to say, he did what he always did in these situations, give a shrug and a soft grunt. He wanted to tell Rick he wanted to see him, but he couldn't, not here, out in the open where anyone could see or overhear them, just by chance. No, this thing between them had to stay his dirty little secret, had to stay in the shadows, because he didn't know how he would handle anyone finding out, much less the entire group. 

“Lets get the food inside. Carol's been waitin' for fresh meat.” Rick finally says, bending down and hoisting the dead animal over his shoulder. Daryl wanted to protest, not wanting his officer to have to carry it, but before he could so much as open his mouth, Rick had already turned and walked off. He was left to trail behind him, catching up to the older male and walking into the cell block by his side. 

He didn't know what it was that made him so eager to please Rick, but it was a burning need within, a need he couldn't begin to understand, much less refuse. He was ashamed of it, hearing his brother's words ringing in his ears whenever he caught himself looking at the former cop for a few second's too long.

“What are ya', little brother, a fag? Ya like it up the ass? Fuckin' disgusting. Come 'ere boy, I'll beat that right out of ya. Daddy didn' raise no fags.”

It wasn't the beating he had received then that had hurt him most. It had been the disgust written all over his big brother's face, the way he looked at him, treated him from that moment on. He had wanted to please Meerle back then, too. But at some point, his needs had changed, evolved, and become more, and all of it because of Officer Friendly. 

Daryl had been almost sickened when he didn't just want to please Rick by helping, by being his right hand, providing and caring for Judith, for the entire group. He couldn't pinpoint when exactly it had happened, but suddenly, Daryl had wanted to please the sheriff in any way possible. 

Erotic dreams had plagued him for weeks, dreams of him and Rick pressed up against each other, cock's rubbing together as they kissed, hands roaming over heated skin. Dreams of him bending over while Rick fucked into him with abandon, over and over, until he was so full of his seed it leaked out of him with each thrust. He had almost gone insane. 

One day, the sexual frustration, the anger at his own feelings, and the need had been too much to handle. After a fight over something he couldn't even recall, he had hauled Rick into the empty cell block, shoved him against the wall and proceeded to kissing the shit out of him. 

This had led to many passionate, borderline aggressive moments between them and Daryl loved every second of it. It was the aftermath of the events that had him swallowing around a lump in his throat, needing desperately to get away and forget, forget how much he needed this, how much he depended on it. Couldn't admit that this was more than just sex, more than anything he had ever had, and nothing he had asked for. 

But there it was, and he couldn't control it, desperation peaking once more for the hundredth time since their last fuck. And so, once they had brought back his game and made sure it would be made for dinner, Daryl moved away from them, brushing his hand against Rick's. This was how they'd let each other know what they wanted, and to meet him in their cell. 

He could feel the other tensing beneath his touch, but then gave a quick nod, showing he had understood, and that he'd come. Daryl was tempted to go get a shower first, wash off the dirt that clung to his body, get rid of the smell of dead animal and the woods. But no, that would take much too long. He needed Rick, and he needed him now.

Only minutes later he found himself in the cell, waiting eagerly for his lover, crossbow leaned against the wall as he struggled out of his clothes. He had just dropped his pants to the floor along with his boxers when Rick entered. 

Blue eyes widened at the sight they were given, and then narrowed down to slits. Daryl suddenly realized then that something was off about the sheriff, something the redneck couldn't quite put his finger on. Rick was still angry at him for being late, but there was something else, something more. 

“This all ya want, Dixon?” Rick growled, moving forward as he ripped off his shirt, small buttons haphazardly falling to the floor. Daryl wasn't given a chance to answer, to question what was going on. Before he knew what was happening, he was being pressed against the wall face first, the cool material of the walls making him jerk back, but he was pinned by a burning hot body. “It is, isn't it? Just a quick fuck. No hassle.”

Daryl grunted, torn between arousal and confusion. He couldn't deny that he loved when Rick got rough with him, but there was something lying beneath the others dominant behavior, his actions not fulled by lust, or affection. Whatever it was, it made the farmer's words scalding hot, burning themselves into the hunters brain.

“Look at ya. So ready for me. So hard.” Daryl jerked violently at the hot breath that gushed over his ear, embarrassment flooding his mind, making him squirm and writhe beneath Rick. They had never really done any dirty talk, nothing beyond straight forward fucking, but oddly enough it sparked his arousal like nothing they had done before. Rick sounded absolute feral, more beast than human. 

He couldn't help the whine that came from his lips, hands digging into the concrete beneath him, short nails scraping at it as he shoved backwards, rubbing his ass against the sheriff's groin, shuddering at the hard cock that brushed against his tingling skin.

“No.” Rick growled in response, grabbing Daryl by the back of his neck and shoving his head forward, forcing his cheek to press uncomfortably into the wall. “If ya are gonna fuckin' use me for my cock, Dixon, then I'm gonna use ya, too.”

The thoughts that whirled through the brunettes head at these words, confusion and even worry starting to overtake his mind, lust fading as cold dread overtook him. Was this what all this was about? Rick feeling like he was using him for sex? Was that why he was so angry, his grip on Daryl's neck so hard it hurt? But suddenly, his body was being filled with burning hot fingers, barely slick enough to slide in smoothly, ripping a moan from chapped lips.

“There it is. My little slut.” The words were snarled, pulling another whine from the redneck as he pushed back out of pure instinct, wanting more of Rick's touch, of the feeling he had when he was being spread open by the other man. “You're ready, aren't you. Just waiting for me to fuck into ya..”

Fingers were pulled back, leaving Daryl feeling empty, but before he could complain he was being filled by something so much better. Rick's cock was twitching within him, helpless moans spilling from thin lips as he started moving without giving Daryl even the fraction of a second to get used to being so full. 

It was quick, and it was dirty, everything Daryl had thought he wanted, and suddenly realized wasn't. The way Rick was pounding into him, his breaths short and heavy as he took him had nothing to do with the way they usually did it. The older had always made sure he wasn't hurting him, but now it didn't seem to matter anymore. He was being fucked like a bitch in heat, harder and harder still until he could feel himself coming against the concrete wall, his vision going blank at the force of his climax.

Rick had pulled out of him the second the last twitch of orgasm had run through his body, hastily pulling up his boxers and pants to cover his still hard cock. Daryl couldn't turn, couldn't look into those blue eyes, too afraid of what he would see in them. 

“Daryl.. I.. fuck. I'm sorry.” Rick finally ground out, one hand shoved into the pockets of his jeans, the other covering his face as he bowed his head. “I'm sorry. Did I hurt ya?”

Finally, Daryl found he could move again and he shook his head, turning his head to get a look at the man he loved more than anything in this world, even if he wouldn't admit it even to himself. 

“Nah, 'm fine. Was good.” He answered, legs trembling lightly as he turned to press his back against the concrete, holding himself up, but only barely. “Ya didn't..”

He was quickly interrupted by Rick lifting his hand, silencing him. He watched as the former cop started pacing the room, biting down on his thumb almost nervously as he did. Daryl didn't know what to do, still basking in the afterglow of his orgasm, but now also worried about the bearded man. 

“Rick, whats goin' on?” He finally asked, trying to ignore the cold that dripped into his body, mixed with an upcoming feeling of panic. Rick spun around then, taking two steps into his direction, crowding Daryl against the wall once more, his fist connecting with the wall right next to the hunter's face.

“Can't do this anymore, Daryl, can't.. this ain't working for me.” He whispered, voice breaking at the end of his sentence, making Daryl flinch. 

“What'cha mean?” Blue eyes searched for equally blue ones as he spoke, pressing himself as close to the cold concrete as he could, brows furrowed.

“This. Meetin' ya here. Can't do it anymore. 'm sorry.” Rick shook his head, taking a step back, blood flowing from his busted knuckles and over his hand. Daryl wanted to reach out , to take hold of the injured hand and examine it, but was stopped in his tracks when Rick stepped out of reach. 

“You don' wan' it anymore?” Panic now finally arose in him, when it should have been there much sooner, Daryl realized. Rick had been off all night, he should have noticed it the minute he walked through those gates, but he had pushed it aside in favor of sating his need for the other. Was Rick ending this? Was it suddenly over? 

“I wan' it.” Rick admitted softly. Hope blossomed in Daryl's chest. Maybe if he just tried harder to please the sheriff, maybe worked harder for the group, did more for Rick in particular, he could convince him to stay. Maybe, if he just dropped to his knee's and sucked him off like the other had sucked him countless times, he'd stay with him. Wouldn't abandon him. Wouldn't leave him so alone. Rick's next words shook him to the core.

“Want more from ya, Daryl. All of ya. Not just 'ere, not just when we're alone. Wanna have ya everywhere, wanna show ya belong to me.” 

Time seemed to slow as the redneck stared at the other, blinking slowly as he worked through he information he had just been provided. Fuck. Was all he came up with. He wanted more. More than this. More like a relationship. A real, bloody relationship. Daryl could do nothing but stare open mouthed, trying to find words, any words he could say to make Rick reconsider, to make him forget a relationship and be happy with what he was offering.

At the same time, Daryl knew that he would never convince Rick of anything, simply because Daryl wanted it too. He wanted to kiss Rick good morning and good night, wanted to share his bed, wanted to help raise his kids, that had somehow become his own in a way. 

“Yeah. I thought that's what ya'd say.” Rick laughed, but it sounded so broken and bitter it made the tracker wince. “Gotta go, gotta find somethin' to do.”

Then, just like that, Rick was gone and for once, it was Daryl who was left behind in the darkness of their cell. That was no longer really theirs.

After all. Everything was over. 

~~~*~~~

Rick tried his very best to act as if nothing had happened. As if he and Daryl had never been anything but best friends, as if they had never met up in an empty cell block and fucked each other until movement became more of a chore than anything else. Tried to treat Daryl like he had before any of it had happened. 

It was a lot harder than he had imagined.

He had never been aware of just how close he and Daryl had been, even before their physical relationship had come to life. Daryl was somehow always close when he was within the prison fences, and not out hunting, or on a run. They ate together, worked together, spent their 'free' time together. They had always been together.

Another thing he had never noticed before was how much he had touched Daryl. A friendly pat on the shoulder, a gentle touch to the others arm, sitting right next to each other when they kept each other company during watch, shoulders and legs brushing. He hadn't noticed any of it because it had come natural, to touch the younger male, and be touched in return. 

Now, he could barely stand it. As if ending their intimate time together somehow made touching the redneck unbearable in any way at all. Rick knew that some people in the group had caught on to him, that something between him and Daryl was off, but they didn't comment, and he was thankful for that. He wouldn't have known what to say if they had. And in all honesty, he reckoned he was being about as subtle as a gun, despite his efforts to play it cool.

The day after he had ended things, Daryl had patted him on the shoulder and he had jumped away, as if it wasn't his best friend showing affection, but a venomous snake striking to kill. Blue eyes had gone impossibly wide, the hurt in them so clear Rick wanted to vomit. He had caught Carol staring at them as they stood in silence for a few moments, simply looking at each other. Rick had apologized, said he was jumpy from lack of sleep, and Daryl had accepted it with a nod. 

The next time Daryl had touched him, the sheriff had dropped his plate, scattering the food onto the floor. He had quickly knelt to clean it up, keeping his eyes focused on the floor. He knew Daryl would be looking at him like that again, pleading, not understanding what was going on. Rick couldn't blame him. He didn't have the slightest clue, either. 

All he knew was that being touched by the man he loved, and touching him in return was painful, brought back too many memories of pleasure and love. Knew that if he'd accept any kind of physical affection, he'd break apart. 

And he had just fixed himself up again not long ago.

~~~*~~~

Daryl had always known that once he depended on someone, he became needy. Needy for their praise, their attention, their appreciation. He had always been that way, even as a child. His momma had told him he was as much a wolf as he was a human, that he had a pack mentality, and despite being fierce and strong, wasn't a natural Alpha. He could do it, if need be, but it would never be a position he'd be comfortable with.

He could recall the many times his momma had spoken to him about her favorite animals, about how they lived, and hunted, and died. Cause everything died, she had said, sooner or later, even those that were strong and smart like wolves. But she had taught him that your pack, your family, was all that mattered. You had to stay close to them, and work hard, or you'd die young, and alone.

It had taken some getting used to, he had to admit, to hear that he was like an animal from his momma, but eventually he had come to understand that it had just been her way of telling him she loved him, and it had helped him understand himself a little better, in the end. 

He wasn't an alpha, never would be, never wanted to be. He was happy following someone he trusted, doing their dirty work or whatever else needed to be done, just to please them. In the end, it did somehow all come back to his intense need to please his leader, his alpha. Meerle had been his alpha for a long time. Now, Rick was his alpha, and Daryl was desperate for his approval, his acknowledgment of his sheer existence. He felt cherished, treasured even when Rick openly showed affection and care for him. 

The sheriff had made Daryl a prisoner of his without even trying, in a way no one had ever before. Rick owned him, literally owned him. He could do whatever he wanted to him, and the redneck would take it, if only to have his hair ruffled when he did whatever Rick wanted well. He would kill and die for the man, without a single question asked.

But Rick had changed since their last meeting in the cell, had pulled back, and it was driving Daryl insane. The cop hadn't touched him since, not even a pat on the back when he brought back another deer, just the hint of a smile and a nod. 

The hunter had tried to ignore it, thought that Rick just needed time after what had happened between them the night before. But when he had gone to touch Rick instead, hoping for a real smile in return, the male had jerked away from his touch as if he was a god damn walker. 

He had apologized, given Daryl a good enough reason to believe, and he had tried to shrug it off. But the nagging voice in the back of his head had already started whispering to him.

_Can't please him, can ya', little brother? Fuckin' worthless ya' are, always have been. Waste of space, waste of air. Can't get the only person that matter's to ya' to be proud of ya'. Pathetic._

Daryl had given the sheriff a few days to himself, had backed off as far as he could to give Rick what he apparently needed. But even after a week, when he had once more attempted to get the others attention, to see that smile he loved so much, Rick's plate had gone flying to the ground, wasting an entire meal. He hadn't even looked at him then, even though Daryl had tried to will him into lifting his face, look at him, talk to him, anything. 

All Rick had done was cleaned up and walked away, leaving Daryl dumb-folded and hurting. 

He knew the former cop was hurting too, hurting because he wanted something Daryl just couldn't give him no matter how much he wanted to, and that it was bound to become a bit awkward between them for a while. But he had never expected it to become a permanent state. 

It seemed to be permanent, though, as a month had passed and Rick's behavior hadn't changed one bit. Rick hadn't come to see him, hadn't kept him any company during watch,or even so much as spoken to him unless he really had to. 

Carol had been asking him about it for days now, just like Hershel and Beth, drilling into him with their questions. He had snarled and grunted at them, shrugged it off or walked away, because there was no way in hell he was going to tell anyone of their secret relationship, and its end. 

The situation, however, was too much to bare. He had to talk to Rick, had to do something to get his attention, to have those blue eyes shining with affection as they looked him up and down, those soft, soft lips curling into a smile. Needed to hear his name on Rick's lips, needed to know he wasn't alone, wasn't unwanted.

He couldn't have stopped himself, even if he had wanted to.

Night had fallen, and for the most part, the prison was shrouded in darkness and silence. The only light he could make out as he stood in the dark was in the watch tower, where Rick would be staying the entire night to make sure they didn't get overrun by walkers. The fences were already starting to bend with the sheer amount of undead bodies pressing against it, and they would have to come up with a solution for that particular issue soon. Just not tonight.

Squaring his shoulders and taking a deep breath, Daryl made his way to the tower, crossbow hung over his shoulder as he walked. It didn't take him long to climb up the latter, knocking at the metal door at the top that would lead him to Rick. 

It had only been open for a second, but he was already halfway through, not wanting to give Rick the chance to tell him he didn't want any company, or even simply close the opening again. Sure, he could have pushed it open himself, but he didn't want to just burst in, not really. He wanted to be welcomed. 

“Should be asleep.” Rick said as he once more sealed the room off from the ladder, not looking at Daryl even as he stood up again. “Gonna be a long day tomorrow.”

“m not tired.” Daryl replied, leaning his crossbow against a concrete wall. “Wanted to talk to ya 'bout something.”

“An' whats that?” The sheriff asked, moving once more onto the outer area of the platform, leaning against the railing, staring into the night. 

“We need more supplies, runnin' outta everythin'. Gotta find something big.” Daryl started, moving to stand next to Rick, mimicking the others posture more out of habit than on purpose. 

“So what'cha suggestin' then?” 

“We hit the place Michonne was talkin' 'bout. Take the cars, take a bigger group 'n we can get 'nough for a few weeks.” They had already talked about this, a few weeks back, when Michonne had first mentioned it. Rick had deemed it too dangerous, chances that the place was full of walkers, or other (possibly aggressive) survivors too big a risk to take. They had fought over it, too. Daryl knew he shouldn't have brought it up again, should have let it rest, especially now, but he simply couldn't. If Rick wasn't going to pay attention to him on his own, then Daryl would simply have to force him to. It was Rick's fault he needed him so much. Rick's fault he loved him. Rick's fault that he craved him so.

“I already said no, Daryl. 's too dangerous. Might not even find anythin', if survivors are hidin' out in there. Might get over run by walkers and die before ya can get a single thing.” 

He could have let it go then, could have nodded and left. Could have just let it be.

“I know.” He said instead, shrugging lightly as he stole a glance at the former cop from the corner of his eye. “But we gotta reconsider, ya know that, we all do. Runnin' too low on too many things.” 

“We'll find a way. Always have.” 

The calmness with which Rick spoke, that he usually loved so much, was now getting on Daryl's nerves. It was too controlled, too bland, no emotion behind it and he hated it. Hated how Rick was treating him with such indifference. Was he suddenly unneeded? Had Rick really stopped caring? 

“There ain't no other way left.” He snapped, pushing away from the railing, turning to face the older man, even though Rick kept staring into nothing, made no motion to mirror his actions. “We gotta get the supplies, if there are any.”

“And I said we'd find another way, Daryl.” Rick snapped, still refusing to so much as even glance at the redneck. “Gotta accept it. I ain't changin' my mind, no matter how hard ya try.”

“An' who made ya the boss of me, sheriff?” He snapped in return, stepping back from the railing and moving to face Rick, fists clenched at his side. He shouldn't be doing this, shouldn't be baiting Rick into a fight. He didn't want the man's anger, far from it, he wanted his affection. But if Daryl couldn't get positive attention from the older male, then he was going to take what he knew he could get. Rick's anger, and thereby, his attention.

“Wasn't just my decision. We voted on it.” Rick shook his head, looking suddenly tired, and much, much older. 

“But if ya changed your mind, ya could convince them. They listen to ya, Rick, always have. I can take Michonne, take a look aroun' the place. If it's too dangerous, we don't bring the group.” Daryl argued, taking a step towards the former cop, who was still stubbornly staring off into nothing. “It ain't that dangerous, Michonne and I can look after each other, we can do it, Rick. Ain't nobody gonna get hurt.”

“I said no!” Rick suddenly bellowed, seemingly having reached the limit of his patience for the hunter. He was suddenly being shoved against the hard wall, a hot body pressed against his own as the sheriff growled in his face. “You gotta problem with your ears, Dixon? Ya don't seem to be hearin' what I'm sayin'. We ain't gonna go anywhere near that place. You got that? Huh?”

“Fuck, back off will ya?!” Daryl grunted it return, his own hands having shot up to grab at the strong, muscled biceps he knew lay beneath the dirty clothing. It was like Rick was trying to shove him through the wall, hands clenched tightly around the fabric of his shirt as he held Daryl by the collar.

“I tried that, but ya seem to need me to say it again'.” Rick snarled, keeping Daryl pinned to the wall with his body, hands suddenly releasing his shirt just to curl into dirty, oily strands of brown hair so tight it hurt. “Ya ain't gonna go, Daryl. Michonne won't neither. Ya hear me? Forget 'bout that place and do somethin' useful. Find another way.”

Anger and arousal seemed to course through his body just at the sound of Rick's voice, rougher, lower than normal. The voice he had heard so many times in the cell they used to meet in. Finally, finally Rick was looking at him, clear blue eyes looking him straight in the eye, angry, and bearing teeth. It wasn't perfect, but it was something, and Daryl couldn't help feeling victorious. He had done it, he had broken Rick down, had forced him into paying him attention. He could still get under the former cop's skin.

“There ain't no other way, I already told ya.” He growled in response, digging his fingers firmly into the others arm. “Now get the fuck off'a me. Someone's gonna see.” 

“There's always another way.” Rick replied, and suddenly, his hands were pulling at his hair, forcing Daryl to lean his head back with a short, painful tug. “Ya scared someone's gonna think you're a fag babe?”

Daryl shivers at the endearment, grunting quietly as he squirms, trying to get away from that insistent body. But he can't use his entire strength, because he could never hurt Rick, not really, and so he is forced to stay trapped between Rick and the wall.

“An' if I do?” He grinds out between clenched teeth. “What if I do care what they think? We're the last one's left, I gotta spend my life with these people. What if I want them to respect me?”

“And bein' gay would make 'em disrespect you?” Rick laughs then, low in his throat and it sounds painful, choked out. Its certainly painful to hear. “That shit don't matter no more, no one cares who you're fuckin', long as you're happy. That's how the world works now. You're clingin' to a world that's dead, and you're takin' me down with ya.”

Daryl doesn't know what to say to that, so he doesn't say anything at all, simply continuing to struggle against the firm body, trying to pull his hair from those strong hands, to gain some kind of leverage, anything, just to get away from this. He had wanted Rick's attention, but this, this wasn't what he had been looking for. 

“Ya can't even see it, can ya, Daryl? That I love ya. That you're mine, an' I'm yours. You can fight it all ya want. It's still the god damn truth.” And then he's spun around, his face crushed against the concrete, Rick behind him, once more pining him down. 

“Rick, just, fuck.” He hisses, because even here, on top of the god damn watch tower, he can't deny the arousal he feels when an insistent cock is rubbing against his ass. He could never keep himself in check with Rick, as if the sheriff brought out everything Daryl tried to hide away, tried to ignore. Brought all of the darkness to the surface, burning him up from the inside. 

“'s what I intend to do.” Is all Rick answers, one hand releasing the oily strands it had clung to, moving his hand along Daryl's side, slipping it between the wall and Daryl's groin, warm palm rubbing at it gently. 

Daryl is paralyzed, torn between panic and the unbelievable need he suddenly feels for Rick. He wants to give in, wants to let Rick fuck him against the concrete wall, because all the things Rick had said, somehow, struck a cord deep within him. He was Ricks, and if he believed the sheriff, then Rick belong to Daryl, too. It was too good to be true, too good to believe. His Alpha was in love with him, maybe, but Daryl certainly didn't own his alpha the way Rick owned him. 

And so the panic within wins, and he's struggling harder now, squirming away from that heated body as much as he can, trying to avoid the hard length brushing against him as he did. 

“Ya want this Daryl, I know ya do.” Rick breaths into his ear, making him inhale sharply as the hot gush of words play over his skin. “So hard for me already, baby, so ready. You need me, don't ya? Missed me as much as I missed ya. I know ya did.” 

“Rick, stop it, stop it, don't do this.” Daryl hisses, his voice pitched higher with his fear, pleading with the other, praying it would save him. “Please, I'm sorry, I won' go, I promise. Don' do this to me, Rick, fucking please.”

A short grunt, and the pressure is gone. He sighs in relief, thinking he would get out of this now. Until he noticed Rick's hand still curled into his hair, shoving him inside the watch tower, shutting the door behind himself. Daryl more stumbles then walks, but it doesn't make much of a difference. He had taken two steps into the enclosed space, and was then shoved onto the old, worn mattress that held nothing but a flat pillow, and a thin blanket.

“Good. But not good enough.” Rick says, flipping Daryl onto his back the second he reaches him, straddling his hips, one hand already securely curled into dirty brown hair, the other ghosting over Daryl's face and gingerly rubbing a thumb over pink lips. “Ya gotta remember your place, baby. Gotta listen to the counsels decision's, all of 'em, if ya like 'em or not. An' I think ya got a bit cocky, with all the new people likin' ya so much, treatin' ya like you're a fuckin' hero.” 

“Didn' get cocky.” Daryl breaths, eyes fluttering shut at the sharp nip his earlobe receives at his words. 

“I think ya have. 's okay, I'll show ya your place, Daryl. Like ya want me to. Always wanted me to.” Those words send shivers down Daryl's spine, a soft keen escaping him. He wants to struggle, but finds he can't. Rick's already licking and sucking at his neck in all the right places, never enough to leave behind a mark, but still so good. And so he groans, quietly, but he does, making Rick chuckle.

“See? I knew ya wanted me, Daryl. Wanted me all this time, wanted me to look at ya, talk to ya. Got so angry when I didn'.” Ricks saying, broad hands roaming over the tracker's sides, up his chest, circling the hardening nubs of flesh that were his nipples. 

“Stop talking.” He grunts, his own hands desperately sliding over strong shoulders, down a muscled back and lower, tugging at the hem of the worn jeans the farmer was wearing. “Jus' do it. Shut up an' get on with it.”

The demand earns him a harsh bite to his neck, just shy of hard enough to break his skin, and he knows he'll be carrying the mark for a few days. He whines in protest, fingers digging into Rick's back through the material of his shirt. 

“You ain't got no say here, Daryl. Ya understand? I'm gonna decide what ya get, and when. An' you're gonna take it.” His tone makes it an order, and Daryl can feel himself tremble at the harsh sound of Rick's voice. The voice in his head is screaming at him to fight, to stop this before it goes any further, but he simply can't find the energy to do anything but nod. 

“Good boy.” Rick praises, and it makes Daryl frown.

“I ain't no dog.” He spat out, arching his back to press his groin firmly against Rick's thigh, needing some sort of friction to sooth the burning ache within. 

“Nah, not a dog.” Rick agrees almost gently, nuzzling against the mark he had left on the tracker's skin only moments before. “But ya like when I praise ya, anyway.”

Its true, and really, there is nothing he can deny here, so he simply nods once more, arching his back as far as he could, desperate for something, anything but this torture, Rick so close to him he can inhale the others scent, and yet still not close enough. 

“So eager.” Rick chuckles, but finally relents, moving his hands to Daryl's pants, slowly unzipping the worn jeans, pulling the fabric downwards until its at the middle of his thighs, trapping his legs. Another low keen is torn from Daryl's lips as he squirms, trying to lower his pants further, to get rid of the offensive material, but Rick appears to be satisfied with the way things are now. Strong hands grab slender hips and push, holding the hunter down.

“Rick, what the fuck-” He doesn't get any further than that, the warmth of Rick's hand rubbing over his throbbing cock forcing a broken moan from him, hips bucking into the welcome touch. 

“I told ya you'd get what I'd give ya, Daryl. No more. Just what I want ya to have.” Its infuriating how Rick can make him squirm and writhe, can make him want him so desperately he feels like he's losing his mind. He's panting now, cheeks burning, and Rick's grinning, obviously pleased with himself. The sheriff was enjoying this, enjoying his control over Daryl. “Hands and knee's Daryl. I'll give ya what ya want.”

The enthusiasm with which Daryl follows his order makes Rick chuckle again, but he's too far gone to care, scrambling onto his hands and knee's, pants still restricting him and making movement more difficult, but it doesn't matter, because Rick wants him this way, and he would always give him whatever he wanted. 

His boxers are pulled down to join his pants, the cold air against his heated member sending a shiver through him, but the thought of the cold is immediately forgotten as he feels warm hands pressing against his skin, rubbing over his firm mounds almost lovingly. 

“Such a good boy, Daryl.” Rick whispers, sliding his thumbs into the crack between his cheeks, teasing him, so close to where he really wants him, and yet not touching. It makes Daryl want to scream, whine, demand more, demand that Rick just fuck him. But he knows better by now, thinks he knows what the sheriff wants from him, so all he does is spread his legs as far as he could, biting his lower lip to hold back the litany of curses threatening to pour out. 

He's rewarded, because that's what it is, a fucking reward, a physical praise, when Rick brushed both thumbs lower, right over the tight ring of muscles, and its enough to make him moan desperately once more, hips pushing back to get more of the delicious touch.

“Ya really been needin' this, huh?” The question makes him growl, because if it wasn't fucking obvious by now that he needed this, then Rick was either blind or stupid. “Now, now. Be nice, baby, or I'll stop right here.”

The warning is enough to make him whimper, but he nods quickly, showing he understood. His cheeks are spread, eyes fluttering shut at the anticipation he feels. In a second, those strong fingers would dip into him, would stretch him further and further, until he felt so full he thought he'd be ripped in two. Rick's next step, however, isn't what Daryl expected.

The hunter feels a hot gush of air against his opening, his brain trying to process the implications, but he's simply too slow. Before he can so much as open his mouth to ask what the hell Rick was doing, he feels something slick and unbelievably hot pressing against his entrance. Daryl's body seems to freeze, once more paralyzed by the sheriff's actions. 

Its a foreign feeling, having someone licking at him, slicking him up, teasing at the rim before lapping at him again. Its not until he feels Rick's tongue slipping inside him that he can react. 

“Fuckin' hell, Rick, don't, what'cha doin' to me, don't, don't..” He pants, but his body betrays him, hips pushing back against the intrusion, legs and arms trembling dangerously as he feels wave after wave of lust washing over him. 

“Ya love it, Daryl, look at ya.” Rick growls, moving to leave another possessive mark on Daryl's cheek, soothing the smarting flesh with a few laps of his tongue. “Don't lie to me, baby, ya know I can always tell. Tell me how much ya want it, tell me, and I'll give it to ya. I'll fuck ya the way ya like it, rough an' quick.”

It breaks him, breaks any control, any restraint he has, and before the tracker knows it, he's begging, begging for Rick to take him, to make him his, desperate plea's only interrupted by strangled sobs. His body is strung tight, pleasure coiling in his stomach, and he is beyond simple want now. He needs Rick.

When spit slicked fingers finally bury into him, he almost cries, cries because this feels so good, almost too good, and because its all he's ever needed since the day he met Rick. He's too far gone for words now, growling and whining as he shoves his hips back, and the sheriff seems equally lost in pleasure, if his short pants and low groans are anything to go by. 

“Hold still baby.” Rick finally whispers, and then he's spreading him open, slowly at first, pushing only the crown of his hard member into his opening. He can't take it anymore, Rick's pushed him too far, and with a defiant growl, Daryl pushed his hips back as much as he can, forcing the sheriff to slide halfway in. They both groan in union, bodies trembling, both needing a moment to catch their breath. 

And then its just like Daryl wanted it, rough and dirty, all pretense gone. Rick's pounding into him like an animal, pulling slim hips back to meet his every thrust, going deeper and deeper until the hunter is reduced to a quivering mess of wanton need. 

“That's it, Daryl, that's it.” Rick encourages, though his words sound rough, his voice on the verge of breaking as he speaks. “Let go, lemme take care of ya... Love ya, Daryl, love ya so fucking much.”

He's coming before he can answer, shooting his seed onto the worn mattress, muscles convulsing around Rick's cock, and then he's being filled with scalding hot liquid, making him whimper with pleasure. Finally, Rick's gotten off with him, he's done good, done so good, made him come again.

Rick seems to agree with him, babbling sweet words of endearment and praise as he thrusts shallowly into the body beneath him, slowly coming down from his own high. Daryl can barely hold himself up, but once again Rick seems to read his mind. He shifts backward, softening cock slipping out of the hunter's tight channel, pulling up his pants before moving him to lay on his side. 

“I got'cha, Daryl.” He murmurs, moving to lay behind the hunter, lazily draping his arm over the spent body, pulling him close. “'m always gonna take care of ya.” 

He barely had time to process Rick's words, but the soothing tone was all it took for Daryl to simply relax, close his eyes, and enjoy the luxury of falling asleep in the arms of the man he loved.

~~~*~~~

 

“Rick!” Daryl hollered, desperately trying to reach the older man, taking down walker after walker as he progressed towards the cop painfully slow. Rick was struggling, holding off a walker that had thrown him to the floor with bare hands, trying to keep away those snapping jaws. Stupid, the tracker had been stupid letting Rick come along.

_“If you're gonna go, you're gonna take me.” Rick had relented the morning after their passionate night in the watchtower._

_“Why?” Daryl had asked, still rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, feeling the cool morning air raise goosebumps on his skin. He hadn't dressed, not yet. Rick had just woken him, the other man dressed and looking infinitely tired._

_“'cause I don' like the idea of anyone else at your back.'s always been you an' me.” The answer had Daryl huffing, avoiding eye contact. It was embarrassing, hearing Rick say something like that so casually._

_“You ain't gotta come. I know ya don' like goin' out there no more.”_

_“I'm not discussin' this with you, Dixon. You an' me, we'll check out that place together, or not at all. Ya hear me?” Rick's words had been firm, and Daryl knew that he wasn't going to change the former sheriff's mind. Not that he wanted to, not really. It had been so long since he and Rick had gone on a run together, sneaking through forests and old houses, always prepared to fight off a walker, or an unfriendly survivor. They had been close back then, physically close, Rick's presence comforting. He had missed going on runs with him, despite his fear of the other getting hurt, or even worse, bitten._

_But he had been serious the night before, it wouldn't be too dangerous. They'd just get a quick look, see how the situation was. He would keep Rick safe._

_“A'right, officer. Whatever ya say.”_

Now, Daryl wished he had fought Rick harder, had insisted that someone else come with him. Wished he had never brought it up again. Nothing was worth the sheer terror he felt curling in his stomach at the sight of his alpha on the ground of the fenced in area that had once been the parking lot of the large supermarket, fighting for his life. 

“Daryl!” Rick cried out as a second walker fell on top of the first, tanned arms struggling to hold the weight, and keep away the creature desperately struggling to take a bite of him. Daryl's heart stopped for just a second then and there, but he was closer now, almost close enough, and so he pushed through the last two walkers that separated him from Rick, stabbing them in the head with an arrow and shoving them to the ground. 

The walkers face was now dangerously close to Rick's face, snapping and growling at the cop. Daryl grabbed the upper walker, shoving an arrow into its eye and shoving it away, only to repeat the action on the lower. 

“Come on!” He ground out, grabbing Rick by the arm and pulling until he stood beside him. “We gotta go.”

Another group of biters were making their way towards them, groaning as they moved. He pulled Rick with him, further and further back until they reached the fence that had surrounded the store. 

Shouldn't have let him talk ya into it, lil brother. Should'a been more careful. Almost got him killed. Ya proud of yourself?

“Shut up!” Daryl ground out, having no time to listen to Meerle's mocking voice, no time to feel the sting of those words. 

“Didn' say anythin'.” Rick answered, his voice rough, breathing too fast. Daryl didn't answer. He had more important things on his mind right now than confessing that he heard his dead brother in his head. 

“Get over there, now.” He snarled, turning his head to keep an eye on the walkers. “Now I said!” 

The cop had hesitated, probably wanting Daryl to get to safety first, but the tracker would have none of it. And so Rick nodded, quickly climbing up and over the fence, waiting for Daryl to follow. 

They made it just in time, Daryl coming over the fence just as the first walker had reached the spot he had been in only a minute before. 

“Run.” Daryl had ground out, grabbing Rick's hand as he sprinted forward. He needed Rick back in the prison, needed him back where he was safe. Never again did he want it to be such a close call, never wanted to hear Rick call out for him so desperately. He would never take the cop on a run again, and if he was beaten and despised for it, then it was something he would deal with. 

“Daryl, stop.” Rick groaned, stumbling and almost falling to the ground. The tracker spun around to catch him, holding him upright for a few moments before carefully sitting him down on the ground. They had made it back into the woods. That, at least, was good. They would be harder to find here. If any walkers made their way to them, safe the case that it was an entire fucking herd, he'd be able to keep them off long enough for Rick to run. They could afford a few moments to rest.

“Ya okay?” Daryl finally asked, going down onto one knee, placing his hand on the other's shoulder. 

“Yeah.. jus' gettin' old I guess.” Rick replied, still catching his breath. “Or I got rusty. 'm fine Daryl. Was stupid of me to wanna go over the fence. Shoulda listened to ya. 'm sorry.”

“Yeah, it was pretty fuckin' stupid.” The archer agreed grimly, shaking his head. “Almost got yourself killed. The fuck am I supposed to do without ya?”

“You'd manage.” 

Those words, more than the blank tone they were spoken in, ignited an anger so fierce within him, he felt like his blood was on fire.

“Whatcha tryin' ta say, Grimes? That ya don' matter to me?” He spat, grasp tightening on the cop's shoulder, barely resisting the urge to shake Rick until the man came back to his senses. 

“I dunno, Dixon, ya tell me.” Rick challenged, blue eyes piercing as they stared at each other. “Ya let me fuck ya, let me bend ya over and claim ya, but ya won't kiss me goodnight. Ya let me suck ya off and swallow your cum, but ya won't hold my hand. I know this ain't easy for ya, bein' with a man and all. It just don't make sense to me. That you'll sleep with me, but not be with me.”

He had no answer to that, none that made sense at least. Daryl couldn't put it into words, the solid wall of fear that kept him from being everything Rick wanted him to be. The fear of fucking up, and losing him. The fear of being laughed at, as he had been for most of his life. The fear that, despite knowing Rick would never do it on purpose, he'd get hurt. 

Heavy silence enveloped them as he tried to find a way out of this situation, a way to distract Rick from this topic and just move on. But there was nothing he could use to do so, no walker that needed to be killed, no animal he could shoot down for them to bring back. 

“..Just 'cause I don' do that stuff don' mean ya don' matter. Ya do.” He finally replied rather lamely. 

“How, Daryl? How do I matter?” Rick pressed on, moving forward to cup Daryl's cheeks, holding his head firmly in place. “You're my best friend, Daryl, and the man I love. That's what ya mean to me. I fuckin' love ya. More than I ever loved Lori.”

“Don't say shit like that.” Daryl protested, brows furrowing as he grabbed for Rick's arm with his free hand, the other still firmly planted on the older man's shoulder. “It ain't true.”

“It is true. I mean it.” The cop insisted, leaning forward to place his forehead against Daryl's, breaths mingling in between them. Rick's eyes had shut, and for once he looked peaceful. “I love ya. I can't stop lovin' ya. I tried, tried to forget ya, but I couldn'. Think of ya every fuckin' second, Daryl, day 'n night. All I want, all I need, is havin' ya in my arms.”

“Jus' stop talkin'!” Daryl growled, wanting to hear no more and yet, wanting to hear more. But he couldn't allow Rick to go on, couldn't allow himself to listen to those sweet words when he had almost failed the sheriff minutes ago. He pulled back, shaking his head in defeat, pulling back his hands. “We gotta keep going.”

“And if I won't go 'til you answer me?” 

“Don't push me, Grimes. We're goin' now, and I will drag ya by your goddamn hair if I have to.” 

And so, after another moment of silent, Rick got to his feet. He moved past the tracker, shoulders brushing the only contact between them. He had pissed his alpha off again, he could tell by the tension in those broad shoulders, but for once he didn't give a single fuck. 

He could think about the misery he had just caused himself when Rick was safely in his cell. 

~~~*~~~

Rick had spent the rest of the day with Carl and Judith. The smell of rotten corpse still stung in his nose, even hours after he had almost been done for. He could still feel the adrenaline, albeit much less prominent, throbbing in his veins. It had been a close call. And though the sheriff was having his fair share of trouble dealing with this reminder of mortality, it seemed that Daryl was having even more trouble. 

The hunter had been practically seething the entire way back, despite obviously aware of Rick's own anger. It seemed that the hunter had been shook to the core by the events of the day, snapping and growling at whoever dared to talk to him, much like when they had just met. It was unsettling, and he hoped it wouldn't last long. He had come to love Daryl's way with the survivors, especially the children. He was so good with them, it was almost ridiculous. His own daughter adored Daryl as well, chubby arms flinging around when she caught sight of the archer, squealing and whining until Daryl had mercy on everyone's ears and held her. Rick thought he would feel jealous of the bond the two had, however, all he felt was content as he watched the man he loved cradling his child, wiggling his finger at her, making her giggle and squirm. 

Today, no matter how much Judith had whined and reached for him, Daryl hadn't given in. And so, when the evening came around, Judith was screaming her little lungs out. Rick had tried everything, had carried her around while rocking her, sang to her, anything he could think of. But even Beth and Carol hadn't been able to sooth the little girl. 

He was about to lose his mind, and his very last nerve, when the door to his cell slammed open. The sound of metal meeting the concrete wall was loud enough to startle the baby, and cause a new round of heart breaking cries. 

Rick quirked a brow as he recognized who had come to them. Daryl looked pissed off still, the anger written all over his face, but his body language was a lot less aggressive than it had been hours ago.

“Give her here.” He grunted, reaching out for Judith, and Rick handed her over without hesitation. He knew Daryl would keep her safe, would never let her be harmed. He didn't doubt that for a second. A few more sobs, and Judith finally stopped crying for long enough to notice that she was now being held by the one she had been demanding to be held by for hours. And then, finally, she went quiet, snuggled comfortably against the trackers chest.

“Thank you.” He breathed, moving to sit on his bed, rubbing hands over his face. He loved Judith dearly, but the small girl seemed to have the lungs of an opera singer, able to scream with a volume that made Rick's ears ring.

“'s nothing.” Daryl replied, cradling the child softly, clear blue eyes never leaving Judith's face. The former cop allowed himself to relax, moving backwards on the bed until his back hit the wall, watching silently as the redneck rocked his daughter to sleep. The sun had set, the only light source the few candles Rick had lit when he came in. Daryl moved soundlessly, as always, to the makeshift crib they had set up in his cell, placing the sleeping baby into it carefully, not wanting to wake her up again.

Rick waited for Daryl to turn around and face him, giving the younger a small smile and a nod. He didn't dare to speak now that Judith had finally fallen asleep. He expected Daryl to nod in return and leave. But the Dixon seemed to have something else in mind.

 

Daryl was suddenly nervous, Rick could tell by the way his shoulders tensed, hand's curling into fists. Two swift steps and Daryl was bending over him, pressing a rough kiss to Rick's lip, pulling back just as quickly as he had moved in. 

“G'night.” He snapped, and then he was gone, just like that. Rick couldn't help the grin that spread over his lips. Just maybe, he and Daryl would work out after all. 

~~~*~~~

He could do this. It wasn't that hard. 

No matter how much Daryl repeated those words in his mind, he simply couldn't believe them. Never in his life had he thought he would even contemplate doing something like this. He wasn't gay. So why would he think about sucking a dude's cock? 

Fact was, he was thinking about it a lot recently. Not any man's cock, of course. No, his thoughts were very focused on a specific man he wanted to suck off. 

His Alpha. His Rick.

After the first attempt to get into the supermarket had gone bad, Rick had insisted they try again, with more people this time around. Daryl had agreed with the condition that Rick stay behind. And even though Rick had argued and growled and snapped, the hunter hadn't backed down, knowing that they'd need their archer to take out a few walkers before they climbed the fence. And so the cop had stayed behind, waiting for the group to return. 

Daryl knew how pissed off Rick was with him, more than he had ever been before. Not even the sheer unbelievable amount of supplies they had managed to gather seemed to sooth Rick's anger. It frightened Daryl, the way his alpha was avoiding him. Daryl had tried everything to track the man down, force him to talk to him, but somehow, his prey always escaped him. It was killing him on the inside, this cold behavior towards him, agonizingly slow. He had to get Rick to forgive him, or he was going to go insane. And so, he had started thinking about how to please his fearless leader.

His first step had been to stay at the prison, and not go out hunting every other day as he normally did. They had enough food for everyone for at least a month or two, if they rationed it generously. If they were more careful, he was sure they could stretch the supplies to last three months. He had helped out around the prison where ever it was needed, even going down to help Rick with his crops. The cop hadn't even looked at him, but Daryl had stayed anyway, kneeling in the dirt with him and doing what he could to make Rick's day less straining. It hadn't done anything, not really. Rick was still ignoring him at every turn.

The next step Daryl took was starting to wash Rick's clothes, tidying up his cell, and making sure the older man had whatever he needed. A bottle of water for the night, clean bed sheets. Sneaking Carl an extra candy bar. He knew all these things were noticed and appreciated when Rick finally gave him a cursory glance and a short nod. But still, it didn't seem enough. The sheriff still wouldn't talk to him, or even touch him. Daryl had to do something more. 

And this is how he had ended up here, in Rick's cell, an hour after sunset, waiting. He had asked Carol to take Judith, knowing there was absolutely no way he could pull this off with a baby in the room with them. He had watched as Rick reluctantly handed Judith over, accepting that he was indeed exhausted, and having a night off would do him good. Carol had winked at him as she walked off to her cell with the baby in her arms. Daryl hadn't told her what he was planning to do, but somehow, she seemed to have figured it out. 

And while Rick had gone to check the fences with Glenn, Daryl had slipped into Rick's cell, lighting a single candle. He honestly didn't know how he would take having a cock right in front of his face, and the less light there was, the less he would see of it. Maybe that would be enough to calm his rioting nerves. He licked his lips, swallowing hard around the lump in his throat. 

_Always knew ya were a homo, baby brother. Ya like takin' it up the ass. I knew ya were a fuck up. Old man knew it too. Cock suckin' lil bitch, right from the moment ya were born._

“Shut up.” He whispered, rubbing calloused hands over his face in an attempt to chase away the voice in his head. He didn't need any more reason to feel insecure, to feel bad about himself. He had to do this. And somewhere, deep down, he wanted to. And that just made the entire situation worse.

“Daryl?” Rick's voice startled him enough that he jumped, eyes gone wide as he stared at the man that had just entered. How had he not heard him? How had he not heard the damn door opening? He was getting careless. He'd work on that later. “Whatcha doin' here?”

He couldn't answer, too scared that if he was forced to speak, he'd give in to his instincts and bail. His body was itching with discomfort, and all he wanted was to make up some bullshit excuse and leave. Had it been anyone but Rick, he would have. But then, he'd never have gotten this far into his plan with anyone but the ex cop. 

And so he did the only thing he could think of. 

He stepped into Rick's personal space, grabbing him by the shoulders and shoving him onto the bed a bit more forcefully than he had intended. A quick glance at the cell door told him that it was closed properly, hidden from prying eyes by the large cloth Rick had taken to hanging over it. 

He didn't give his alpha any time to question him before crawling between his legs, attacking the soft skin of Rick's neck with his tongue and lips, nipping at it ever so often. To his relief, he wasn't shoved away. Instead, he felt strong hands curling into his hair and pulling him up, dry lips crashing against his so violently their teeth clicked. Daryl didn't care, it was the perfect distraction from what he was about to do. Kissing Rick always felt like he had died and gone to heaven, loving the way the man tasted, the way his slick muscle pushed its way into his mouth, dominating the kiss in every way possible. 

But he knew that if he didn't act soon, he'd let Rick have his wicked way with him, let him bend him over and fuck him until he screamed. And that wasn't what tonight was about, aside of the fact that Daryl would die with embarrassment if anyone actually heard them. 

Rick was already fumbling with the worn jeans Daryl was wearing when the tracker broke the kiss, roughly moving Rick's hands away from his pants. Rick gave him a questioning look, the one he always gave him when the cop was confused, and slightly amused with him.

Daryl just growled, still not wanting to verbalize his intentions. He made do with pulling the sheriff's shirt over his head and tossing it to the floor. Rick was breathing heavily now, blue eyes watching the redneck curiously. Daryl had to look away before he lost his nerves. 

He could do this. He could. Just had to take it slow.

Slowly, he brought his lips to Rick's body, pressing shy kisses against the heated skin, nosing at the thin layer of hair that covered his chest. Rick gave a soft moan, back arching, bringing himself closer to those soft lips. Daryl felt a surge of arousal at that, pleased with himself. So far, he hadn't done anything wrong. He continued trailing kisses over the broad chest he loved so much, moving lower and lower, until he could feel the hem of Rick's pants rubbing against his chin. 

“Daryl..” Rick breathed, grabbing hold of the tracker's head by cupping his cheeks, tilting it upwards. “Don' have to do that. I know ya don'.. I know ya don' want to. I ain't mad at ya no more. I promise.”

And there it was. His way out of this. Rick had forgiven him. He could just nod, and let Rick take control. Could kiss him until his lips hurt as they jerked each other off, being as silent as they possibly could. The chance was there. All he had to do was take it.

“..I wanna.” He whispered, lowering his gaze as he felt a wave of shame wash over him. He'd never thought he'd want to suck off a guy. And here he was, wanting it so bad his mouth watered for it, and hating himself more with every second. He felt Rick's hands leave his cheeks, one moving to run through his hair, the other grasping his chin. 

“Alright.. But we can always stop, ya hear me? I don' wanna hurt ya.” Daryl nodded his understanding, eyes fluttering shut as he felt Rick press a work roughened thumb against his lower lip, gently teasing it along the warm flesh. The redneck was unable to do anything but sigh contently. No one had ever been this gentle with him. This caring. 

Slowly, he undid Rick's pants, hands trembling as he pulled at the hem, slipping them over strong, toned legs. Rick laid beneath him wearing nothing but his briefs now, blue eyes fixed on Daryl, staring so intently it made the hunter squirm. 

“'s okay.” Rick breathed, reaching out to brush a thumb over Daryl's cheek. “Take your time.”

It had to be hard for the cop to be so patient. His breathing was labored, too quick breaths slipping past parted lips, cock twitching in the too tight briefs despite not being touched. The way he laid there, already coming undone, gave Daryl the boost of self confidence he so desperately needed. Rick was enjoying this. Seemed to want this, and want it bad. 

Deciding that he had procrastinated enough, Daryl reached for the last layer of clothing that was separating him from Rick's member, yanking it down almost roughly. The sight he was given made him freeze.

He had never looked at another dude's cock, fuck, he had barely looked at his own. But Rick was truly beautiful. He was long and thick, nestled in a patch of light brown hair, and Daryl could swear that if he looked closely enough, he could make out a few gray hairs. Maybe Rick was getting old. The thought made him snort and shake his head, prompting the sheriff to gently nudge Daryl in the side with a boney knee. 

“Whatcha laughing at, Dixon?” His tone was teasing, but the nervous twitch of hips did not go unnoticed by the archer. Was Rick as insecure about this as he was? Surely not. His alpha never lost his cool. Well, there had been the time right after Lori...but that wasn't what he wanted to think about now.

“You.” He whispered, slowly shifting until he was laying on his stomach between Rick's legs. “So fuckin' beautiful. 's ridiculous.”

Rick gave a huff of laughter, those strong hands coming to brush through dirty brown hair. 

“Not half bad yourself there.” Daryl growled at that reply, fighting the blush he felt creeping onto his cheeks, but Rick just kept talking. “Look so fuckin' hot, Daryl, so close to my cock.. Been wantin' to fuck your mouth since I met ya.. will ya let me? Let me fuck that pretty mouth?”

“Yeah.” He had spoken before really thinking, but in the end, Daryl would always let Rick do whatever he wanted. Whatever he needed to do to please his alpha. Closing his eyes and taking a deep breath, Daryl was ready to take that last step. Slowly he moved forward, pressing his lips to the side of the cops impressive member. The redneck had been terrified that he wouldn't like it, that tasting another man on his lips would make him want to vomit. The truth was the exact opposite.

He groaned at the musky scent, nuzzling his nose against the throbbing length. He couldn't resist the urge to flick out his tongue, dragging it from the base all the way up to the swollen head, giving kitten like laps at the heated skin. 

“Christ, Daryl..” Rick whispered, tightening his grasp on the brown strands of hair, fingers twitching at every small brush of tongue against his cock. “Feels so good..”

The archer felt a blush spread over his cheeks, squirming a bit at the praise, and deciding that if sucking Rick off would make him say more of these sweet words, it was definitely something he would do again. 

He took his time getting to know Rick, tasting and teasing the older with his slick muscle until lean hips were trembling with the effort of having to stay still. Rick was a sight to behold, legs spreading for Daryl beautifully, a thin layer of sweat covering his body as he panted and growled, trying to be silent and almost succeeding. Every once in while, when the redneck licked over a certain spot right below the cop's crown, a low moan would escape Rick, making Daryl's own cock twitch with excitement. 

Not even in his dreams had he imagined that giving head would turn him on so much. It was embarrassing that he was already leaking pre despite not being touched, like a fucking teenager. But he couldn't help himself, couldn't stop the lust coursing through his veins, burning him from the inside out, growing hotter with every soft gasp of pleasure Rick gave.

The cop was beyond words now, and by the way his hips kept rocking against Daryl's face, rubbing his heated member against chapped lips, the younger male could tell Rick was getting close. But he wasn't finished with him, not just yet. He wanted to give more, wanted to do what the sheriff did for him. He wanted to suck him into his mouth, let him fuck into it, and swallow his release. 

Taking a final, deep breath, Daryl parted his lips, licking at them nervously for a moment. He let his eyes fall shut as he pushed the tip into his mouth, needing another minute to figure out how to make Rick slide in smoothly, without scraping sensitive skin against his teeth. It seemed to take forever, but finally the archer had manage to find a decent position, breathing through his nose as he lowered his head further, swallowing more of the sheriff's length. 

He had been entirely focused on the task at hand, so much that he hadn't even caught Rick's response to his actions, but his ignorance didn't last long. A low groan made him flick his gaze upward, gently sucking at the heated flesh. The view he was given almost made his heart stop. 

Rick's eyes were dark with desire, pupils blown wide, cheeks and lips flushed. He was biting down on his lower lip, fists curled into the sheet below as his body trembled. 

“Shit, Daryl, 'm not gonna last..” He ground out, hips twitching ever so lightly as he spoke, pushing his throbbing member just a fraction deeper into the heat that surrounded him. “Gotta stop.. Ya can use your hand.. Don' have ta.. Don't have ta swallow.”

But Daryl cut him off with a low growl, pushing his head down even further, taking as much of Rick as he could without gagging, saliva dripping from the corners of his mouth along the hard shaft. And suddenly, Daryl felt brave. Rick was close, so close, and the archer couldn't think of anything more arousing than feeling his alpha's hot cum spilling into his mouth and down his throat. And so, he hallowed his cheeks as he sucked, bobbing his head slowly at first, but quickly picking up the pace at the lustful sounds his lover was making.

“Fuck.. Daryl, gotta stop, gotta stop now..” Rick forced out between clenched teeth, his hips twitching upwards every few seconds now, thrusting into Daryl's mouth just shy of too deep, making the archer moan around the thick shaft he was sucking on so enthusiastically. The first drops of pre were covering his tongue now, tasting a bit salty and not at all unpleasant. “Shit. Gonna make me come.. feel's so good baby, so fucking good..”

Daryl couldn't help the low groan that escaped him, loud enough to be heard even with his lips wrapped around Rick's cock. The sheriff was babbling again, like he always did when he was close to climax, and he loved every word that tumbled from those beautiful lips. Pushing himself up onto his knee's, he used one hand to steady himself, lips still firmly locked around Rick's flesh, refusing to move too far. But he couldn't stand it anymore, he was too hot and bothered to continue like this. Without thought he shoved his free hand into his pants, rubbing at his own throbbing member, already slick with his pre. 

Moving his head in his position was difficult, his jaw and neck straining to keep up the pace Daryl had set before, and failing. Finally the redneck gave up,letting his jaw go slack after pushing his head down one final time, hoping the cop would get the hint. 

Rick did.

Rough hands were suddenly back in his hair, pushing his head down as far as possible, hips thrusting upward erratically, forcing the entire length into Daryl's mouth. Tears sprung to the hunter's eyes, breathing sharply through his nose as he felt that hot tip hit the back of his throat. It hurt, but it was also fucking amazing. The way Rick was using his mouth to pleasure himself, pushing and shoving into it with such desperation.. it was perfection.

He started stroking himself faster, rubbing his thumb over the tip whenever he could reach it while Rick did just what he had asked to do. He fucked Daryl's mouth, claimed it as he had already claimed his ass, cock leaking with a steady stream of pre. He was sure they could be heard, that Rick's moans and growls had to be echoing off the walls of his cell, carrying their sounds to places others could hear. But it didn't matter, not right now. Rick was everything that counted, and if he had to go through the embarrassment of others knowing he liked to suck cock, then so be it. 

He was dangerously close already, his hand wet and sticky with his own seed, covering himself with every downward stroke. But he couldn't come yet, didn't want to come yet. He wanted to taste Rick on his tongue and drink him dry. Wanted to come together with his alpha. 

And just as he thought he couldn't take another second of this without losing his mind, Rick's hips stuttered, froze for a second, and then shoved forward brutally while the older man almost cried out in pleasure. Daryls eyes flew open at the sheer amount of seed in his mouth, trying desperately to swallow everything he was being given, yet finding it impossible as a few drops leaked onto his chin. A single tug on his member was all it took to send him over the edge, moaning loudly around Rick's length as he spilled onto the bedsheets. The force of his climax had him seeing stars, and made him incapable of movement, even minutes after his release. Luckily, he didn't have to move a single muscle.

Rick had taken only moments to catch his breath before pulling Daryl off his cock and into his arms. He kissed him so sweetly then, confessing his love in soft whispers, cradling the archer against his chest. Daryl was still dazed, his body humming with the after glow, but the warmth he felt spreading through him at the cop's words couldn't be denied. 

When he finally felt able to speak once more, Rick had buried his nose into his hair, humming an odd little melody that Daryl had ever heard before. He wanted nothing more than to sit like this for the next few hours, wrapped up in his lovers arms, but the night was bleeding away. And they would need their energy in the morning. 

“Let's get some sleep.” He said quietly, moving off of Rick's legs to lay on his side, looking up at the cop. He could see Rick swallow hard, blue eyes wide with surprise. He had never spent the night. Wisely, however, the sheriff didn't comment. Daryl watched as a grin spread over Rick's face, wider and wider until it was almost wider than his face itself. The redneck couldn't help giving his alpha a lop sided grin in return as he was joined by the older man, back pressing against the cop's chest and strong arms surrounded him. In only a matter of seconds, Daryl was asleep, wrapped up in Rick's scent and body warmth. It was the best night's sleep he had gotten in years. 

~~~*~~~

The day after that particular event had been humiliating. Daryl could tell by the way people looked at him when he and Rick had shown up for breakfast together that they had heard. Everyone. He could feel the scowl on his face spreading, ready to snap at (or rather punch) the first person to mention it. But much to the redneck's surprise, after a few moments of awkward silence at their entrance, the group went back to its routine, chatting over breakfast and gearing up for whatever work they would be doing today. A warm hand on his shoulder made Daryl turn his head, only to see his sheriff grinning at him like the freaking Cheshire Cat. Like he was saying he had told Daryl so from the very start. No one seemed to care that they were fucking, not a single one. It was a relief. 

His anxiety, however, rose once more as Carl joined his father for breakfast. The boy was unusually silent, poking at his food and moving it around the plate rather than eating it. He was frowning too, and Daryl could feel his stomach turn. Did Carl not approve? Did he think his Dad could do better, that he wasn't good enough? Would Rick listen to his son, and end their arrangement? Bile was already rising in his throat, and he was gearing up to leave when Carl finally did speak.

“Daryl. Does this mean you're my dad now, too?” The question surprised the hunter, causing him to glance at Rick, silently asking for help with handling this unexpected conversation.

“Do you want him to be your dad, Carl?” Rick asked, his voice soft in an attempt to sooth the young boy, indirectly soothing Daryl in the process as well. Though he still felt anxious, he knew Rick wasn't going to let him do this on his own. He was going to help him through this. He wasn't alone.

“..Yeah. That'd be pretty cool.” Carl responded after a moment of silence. “Only if he wants to, though.”

Daryl was speechless. He had thought of Carl as his own since they had reached Hershel's farm, and Judith the second he had laid eyes on her. He had never dared to dream that Carl would accept him as a parent. But Carl wasn't the only one that had a say in this. Rick had to approve first, had to allow Daryl to be a father to his son. Because in truth, being seen as Carl's father was something he desperately wanted, the prospect of having such a clever son as the boy sitting across of them filling his chest with pride. He couldn't give Rick children of their own, but he damn sure could protect and die for the ones he already had. 

“If its fine with your dad..” He answered slowly, lowering his head a bit out of pure instinct, a display of submission as he waited to hear Rick's reply. 

“Look at me, Daryl.” The archer's head snapped up at the soft command, blue eyes filled with uncertainty as he struggled to keep his facial expression blank. His fear had been unneeded. Rick was smiling warmly at him, taking the redneck's hand into his own below the table and squeezing it gently. “You've been Carl's and Judy's dad the minute ya took care of 'em when I couldn'. Just wasn't official. We can make it official now.”

It was entirely too good to be true, and for a second Daryl really contemplated on this being a dream, but when the moment didn't end, didn't dissolve as a dream would, he knew it was real. Tears were pricking his eyes as he looked at Carl once more, the boy that was now officially his son, too. 

“A'right.” Was all he could say before getting up and walking away. He was going to be dammed if anyone saw him crying.

 

“Dad!” The sound of his son's voice made Rick's blood freeze in his veins. Something was wrong. Whirling around, Rick watched in horror as Carl dragged Daryl along the road to the prison, the hunter barely staying on his feet as they stumbled towards the gate. A small group of walkers were on them, much too close to his family. 

“Open the gates!” Rick hollered as he ran towards the pair beyond the fences, grabbing hold of a shovel on his way. Maggie and Glenn were already there, opening the gates, guns at their hips. But Daryl and Carl were shielding most of them, keeping them safe from deadly bullets. And so Rick did what he had to do to keep his family safe. He ran forward, lifting the shovel as he went, brushing past his son and mate to take down the nearest walker. 

“Help them!” He called out, bringing the shovel down on a second undead as he moved backwards, doing his best to keep them off long enough for them to get to safety. Daring to throw a quick glance over his shoulder, he caught sight of Maggie rushing Carl inside, Glenn having lifted an unconscious Daryl into his arms. With a last swing of the shovel, Rick shoved the metal part of his tool into the walkers head, and after pulling it out swiftly, retreated back into the confines of the prison. He wasted no time, dropping the shovel and catching up with Glenn and Maggie, grabbing his son by the shoulder. He couldn't look at Daryl, couldn't let himself lose it until he knew what had happened.

“What happened?” He choked out as they moved to the infirmary, where Hershel and Doctor S. would be, the only two that would be able to help now.

“We were. We were tracking a deer.” Carl stuttered, eyes wide with shock, his skin a frightening shade of gray. “I'd just. I'd just taken it down when these guys were suddenly just.. there. They wanted the deer, and Daryl was gonna.. gonna give it to them. He was just going to leave, but.. they just shot him! He didn't do anything!”

Rick's world was spinning. Shot. Daryl had been shot. The memories of when the same had happened to Carl flooded his mind, the fear, the worry, the pain. How he had been forced to hold him down when Hershel had extracted the shrapnel. All he wanted to do was close his eyes and pass out. But he couldn't do that, not now. His archer needed him.

They had finally reached their destination, and Caleb had take a single look at them before he rushed over to a patient bed, motioning for Daryl to be laid on it. Rick still didn't look. There would be blood, no matter which body part hat been torn into by the bullet, and the sight of it, the knowledge that it was the redneck's.. It would have made him faint on the spot.

“Its alright, Carl, ya gotta calm down. What happened then?” He forced his voice to stay even as he turned his back on the archer and the people around him, kneeling down in front of his son, holding him by the shoulders firmly. 

“They t-took the deer and left. They kept saying it was claimed or something. Dad, they were crazy. They were laughing when they shot Daryl.” Carl whispered, eyes watery with the tears the boy refused to spill. “Dad.. is he going to be okay?”

“Go tell Carol, and get Judy.” The sheriff said, ignoring the question he had no answer to. He could hear Caleb and Hershel talking to each other, hushed, as if they didn't want anyone else to hear. That alone told Rick that, whatever was happening, it wasn't good. “Go, Carl. Bring them back, but don' come inside, ya hear me?” Standing, he turned Carls body towards the door, giving him a small, urgent shove. “Go on.”

He watched as Carl sprinted from the room, allowing himself just a second to close his eyes and breath. He had to turn around now, had to ask how badly his tracker was hurt. If there was anything he could do to help. 

“How bad is it?” He asked, moving towards Caleb, coming to stand at the bed, and still not haven taken a look at Daryl. Just a few more seconds, he told himself, just a few more seconds, and I'll look. 

“He's bleeding a lot.” Came the short reply. Rick finally looked. Daryl's upper body was covered in blood, his angle vest clinging to his body. Shot in the upper chest. They had shot him in the chest over a god damn deer. Killed a human being over something he was going to let them have, anyway. 

“Will he make it?” Was all Rick could ask, eyes glued to the smooth chest he knew so well. How many times had he touched that soft skin, pressed his lips against it and covered it in loving kisses. 

“I don't know. You have to wait outside, Rick.” Hershel answered now, grabbing Rick by the arm and pulling him away. “You know the rules. Partners and relatives stay outside.”

“He needs me.” The cop protested weakly, shaking his head as he was moved from the limp body. “Can't jus' leave him.”

“You can't help him, Rick. Go comfort your son. Hold Judy. We'll come out when we know.” The farmer insisted, pulling Rick towards the door, and this time he didn't resist. He wanted to stay with Daryl, but at the same time he was relieved. Relieved that he wouldn't have to see what they would do to him. Wouldn't have to see the life slip from his body if...

The door closed behind him and he was faced with more people than he had expected. Glenn, Maggie, Michonne, Beth, Sasha, Tyreese, Carol, Bob.. They all stood behind Carl, Judith cradled against Beth's chest, fussing as she reached out for her father. He took his little girl into his arms, holding her tightly, pressing his face into the soft, blond hair growing on her little head.

“He's gonna be okay, Judy. You'll see.” His voice sounded off even to him, strained and choked, but it was the best he could do right now. “Your daddy's gonna be fine. He won' leave us. He'll never leave us.”


	2. Chapter 2

Daryl woke disoriented and exhausted. The edges of his sight were blurred, making it even harder for the redneck to determine where the hell he was.

When he tried to lift his head, the pain was so intense he groaned. What the hell had happened to him that even such a small movement would cause such agony? His memory was fuzzy, he couldn't really recall much from the moment those men had stepped into his sight. 

_Carl._

Grunting, Daryl forced himself to sit up, ignoring the way his muscles protested, the sweat that started to form on his forehead. He had to sit up, he had to get on his feet, had to figure out what was going on. Had they taken him and Carl? Had they killed him? It was dark, so very, very dark and Daryl couldn't see shit. His body was already growing weak, his arms trembling as he moved them. 

“Daryl.” 

The voice made the redneck freeze. He knew that voice. Had heard it a thousand times. Had heard it break, had heard it at its loudest, at its lowest. His Rick. He was safe. 

“Jesus, lay back down. Whatcha doin'?” Warm hands pressed against his shoulders, and before he even knew what was going on, he was pressed flat against the mattress he had woken up on.

“Carl?” He rasped out, his voice ragged and breathy. 

“He's fine. Not a scratch on him.” Rick soothed, broad hands rubbing along his arms gently. “You're ice cold.”

“Don' feel cold.” He grunted in reply, his eyes slowly fluttering shut once more. Carl was safe. He hadn't gotten him killed. “Thirsty, though.”

“I'll get ya somethin'. Don' move.” He could hear Rick opening the cell door, the sound of his steps growing quieter as he moved further away. Daryl felt like it was an eternity until the sheriff was back, holding a bottle of water in one hand, and a blanket in the other. 

“Here. Jus' a few sips, or you'll be throwin' up.” The older male warned as he handed over the bottle, helping Daryl sit up when the hunter struggled to do so himself. The water tasted perfect, cool and refreshing, and it was hard to stop after just a few sips. But he knew Rick was right. God knows how long he had been passed out. His stomach might need a bit to get used to processing things again. 

Gratefully, Rick was taking excellent care of him. He was laid back down gently, now covered by two blankets, sleep tugging at the edges of his mind once more. He could barely keep his eyes open, and pain was still thrumming through his body. 

“Good night, Daryl.” The sheriff whispered, pressing the sweetest of kisses to dry lips, and only seconds later, the redneck was asleep. 

~~~*~~~

 

Two weeks had passed, but to Daryl, it felt like two months. His injury still hurt whenever he moved too much, but it was no longer the kind of pain he couldn't handle. He was ready to get out of bed, ready to start helping out again, even if it was only with small things. However, thanks to a certain sheriff, he feared he'd never be able to leave his cell again. 

As much as he enjoyed Rick looking after him, it was slowly getting to the point where Daryl felt unnecessarily babied, the way the cop was constantly around him, making sure the redneck didn't move more than he had to. He was a grown man for fucks sake, and he was being handled as if he was fragile enough to fall apart any second. And it wasn't just Rick, neither.

Day in and day out, people would visit him, bringing him books to read, a bottle of water, or other small things. Michonne had even handed over her dearly loved, stale M&M's. Carol was around every day too, though she kept her visits brief. She knew better than anyone else that he would be uncomfortable with getting so much attention. Whoever stopped by though, Rick would keep a watchful eye on Daryl, gently dismissing the visitor when the tracker started to get irritated. 

It had taken him 3 days to finally stay awake longer than a few minutes at a time, and truthfully, he still ached. But hell, that didn't mean he couldn't do anything useful. He didn't need to be in bed all day anymore, didn't want to be either. The way people were catering to him was embarrassing. Rick washed Daryl's clothes, brought him food and water, and even washed him when he hadn't been strong enough to shower yet. 

Now, Rick would let him walk to the showers and back to clean himself, and take a leak. But the cop was never more than a few feet away, ready to catch Daryl should he fall. It was comforting, and overwhelming. No one had ever really looked after him the way Rick did. 

And despite loving all of the care his alpha was giving him, he needed to get out of the prison and outside. Needed to breath in some fresh air, feel the wind brush against his face. If only he could get Rick to let him..

“What'cha thinkin' 'bout so hard?” Rick questioned, looking up from the book he had been reading to face Daryl, seated comfortably on the bed, right next to where the archer was laying. 

“Thinkin' 'bout outside. Been stuck in here for fucking ever.” He answered, slowly sitting up. “Jus' wanna go outside for a few minutes. Come on, Rick. I'll go fuckin' crazy if you keep me in here much longer.” 

Rick gave him that look again, the look that said he was concerned, skeptical even, of the archer's request. 

“Come on, Rick. You know if it were you, you'd have been out days ago.” Daryl argued, taking the sheriff's book from his hand, placing it on the make shift night stand beside the bed. “Jus' wanna get some air.” 

The older male's brows furrowed before he shook his head slowly, strong hands coming up to cup Daryl's cheeks, pulling him in for a sweet kiss.

“You're gonna sit your ass down the minute we're outside.” He finally relented, moving to get off the bed and give the redneck room to get up. “No walkin' around, ya hear?”

“Yeah yeah, officer, I hear ya. You're so damn bossy.”

Seconds later he wished he hadn't let those words past his lips, simply because Rick's reply didn't only make him blush,but was also completely fucking true.

“You love it, Dixon.”

~~~*~~~

Rick had almost gone mad with worry. Daryl had been unconscious for almost two days before he had finally woken.

Somehow, he had kept it together. 

He had gotten Daryl water, soothed and tucked him in, and soon the archer was once more asleep.

“Dad?”

Carl stood at the cell door, brows furrowed. 

“He was awake.” The sheriff replied flatly, chest suddenly tight with emotions. “Stay with 'im Carl. Need some fresh air.” 

His son had nodded and took Rick's seat at Daryl bed without protesting. He was proud of him, proud Carl was able to sense that his father just needed 5 minutes, that he didn't ask questions or protest. 

And so, Rick practically bolted out of Daryl's cell, and into the court yard. He ignored the people that called his name, he didn't even stop when Hershel came up to him. He needed out, right fucking now.

Once he was finally breathing fresh air, he could barely keep himself from weeping.

Daryl had woken up. 

He was going to be okay. 

For the first time in what seemed like an eternity, Rick felt his prayers had been heard. 

~~~*~~~

 

Three weeks had passed since he'd been shot. 

Finally, Daryl was once more allowed to move freely around the prison, help out where it was needed. The redneck would have preferred getting right back into the game, to hop into a car and go on a run. But Rick, and the entire counsel for that matter, had been adamant about him not going outside the prison for at least another week. 

And if that wasn't bad enough, there was one more thing that was pissing him off.

Rick hadn't laid a hand on him since. 

Not that Daryl had wanted that the first weeks after the injury. But he had been up and about, though under supervision, for a week now and yet Rick hadn't done anything but kiss him sweetly ever so often. 

And fuck, it was getting to the archer all kinds of ways.

Sure, they still slept in the same bed, strong arms wrapped around his middle, his back pressed firmly against Rick's chest.. They spent time together with lil ass-kicker and Carl. Hell, Rick had even joined him in the shower once, when they were sure no one would interrupt. But even then, all Rick had done was carefully clean the redneck's back and sides before retreating. Daryl had been rock hard that moment, forced to quickly jerk himself off before anyone else could walk in. 

And damn it, it just didn't make sense.

The archer had been good to go for a while now, and Rick just didn't seem interested. The few times Daryl had attempted to get more than a few kisses, he was gently refused. He didn't dare say a word about it, too afraid of hat the answer would be. 

What if, after all they've gone through, Rick had just grown tired of him? 

But if he had, then why were they still sleeping together in Rick's cell, why was he still kissing him, why..

_'cause he feels sorry for ya, Darleen. Can't cha see it? He's afraid you'll lose it, get yourself killed. Needs his archer, can't risk loosin' ya till he found someone that shoots that crossbow just as good as you._

“Shut up.” Daryl hissed, shaking his head violently from side to side. He'd been sitting up in the watch tower for hours now, watch the Walkers press up against the fences, as Rick tended to the crops he grew. Merle's voice had been whispering to him for days now, about how he wasn't good enough, how he'd almost gotten Carl killed by taking him out hunting. Shit, that wasn't even the only time he had fucked up. Back at the supermarket, Rick had almost been a goner, too. 

Maybe Merle was right. Maybe Rick thought Daryl couldn't handle a break up. Seeing as their leader had lost his mind after Lori's death, the redneck guessed it made sense that his Alpha would fear that. 

_Told ya, lil brother. You ain't worth nothin' to him, never were. Just a convenient fuck .Did you really believe him when he said he loved ya? Pretty damn stupid, there, Darlenea._

And fuck, he really had been stupid to believe it, hadn't he? But no more. He wouldn't force Rick to stay with him. He had been fine on his own all his life, he didn't need anyone's pity.

That night, the sun had just started to set, the second Glenn had relieved Daryl of his post, the archer made his way to the cell he and Rick shared, and started packing. His old cell was still empty, he could just sleep there again, and it'd be like nothing had ever happened.

“Daryl? What'cha doin'?”

Daryl startled, head whipping around to face his Alpha. The sheriff must have just gotten out of the shower, wearing nothing but a pair of worn jeans and whatever was below them. His hair was still dripping wet, beads of water shimmering in it where ever the last rays of sun light peeking through the window hit it.

And really, how had he ever been able to believe that a man so fucking perfect would ever want someone like Daryl?

“Jus' gettin' my stuff.” He mumbled, reaching out for his crossbow, but his wrist was caught before he could take hold of it.

“The fuck Daryl?” Rick growled, forcing the Archer to sit down on the bed, facing the older male. “You wanna tell me whats goin' on?”

“I know, a'right?” Daryl hissed, wanting nothing more than to stand up and just leave, to not talk about this, because fuck, saying it out loud might actually break him.. 

“Know what, Daryl? Come on, you gotta talk to me.” Rick urged, slowly kneeling before the brunette, strong hands resting on Daryl's knees, holding tight.

“Look Rick, you ain't gotta do this. I know you ain't..” His voice broke, and Daryl had never hated himself more than in this moment. He refused to fucking cry in front of Rick. He had to get through this, and then he could silently let the tears fall when he was safe in his cell. 

“I know you don' want me no more.” Daryl finished, swallowing hard before rising, effectively getting rid of Rick's hands on him. “Jus' gonna pack my things, leave you be. Gonna be fine, jus' like befo-”

He hadn't even finished his sentence before he was suddenly pinned on the bed, chest up, Rick laying on top of him, hot and heavy, and fuck how he'd missed this. Rick had somehow managed to grab the archer's wrist and pin the over his head, holding him with one hand, the other wrapping around his neck. 

“Don' ever say that again.” Rick growled, giving the redneck's throat a squeeze. “You understand? Don' ever say that again, Daryl, or I swear I'll hurt ya.”

Too shocked to speak, Daryl simply stared at Rick, eyes wide, lips parted. He didn't know what was going on, didn't know what to do, how to react, his body miles ahead of his head when he felt his cock stiffen. 

“After everythin', how can you think I don' want you, huh?” The sheriff asked, eyes dark with anger, and something else, something Daryl hadn't seen in so long.. “Answer me!”

“Haven't touched me in weeks!” Daryl snapped, finally able to move again, trying to get lose. “I know you ain't interested no more, only stayin' with me cause you're worried I can't handle breakin' up, but I can, Rick, I-”

“This feel like I ain't _interested_?” Rick asked, hips pushing down against Daryl's, something hard pressing up against his thigh, and fuck, there was no way he could stop the small whine of pleasure slip past his lips. His alpha didn't give him time to reply, roughly pressing their lips together, teeth and tongues clashing. God, how he had missed this, how he had yearned for his lover to touch him again, to be rough with him, not treat him like he was about to fall apart...

When Rick pulled away after what seemed like an eternity, Daryl whined, chasing after the officer's lips, and being denied as the cop moved out of reach, the archer's hands still pinned above his head. 

“Could've just said ya needed it,.” The older male scolded softly, making the redneck squirm. “Didn' wanna rush ya. Ya were so damn eager to get back on yer feet, didn't want to put any more stress on your body.”

“Gotta stop worryin' about me so much.” Daryl huffed, giving the sheriff a half hearted snarl. “Will ya let me go now?”

“Promise me ya ain't gonna do this again, Daryl.” The atmosphere changed with Rick's words, suddenly becoming serious in a way the archer could hardly bare. 

“I promise.” He breathed out, waiting, watching for Rick's reaction. He could feel intense blue eyes boring into his own, as if they were looking for something, something Daryl couldn't begin to comprehend. 

Rick shook his head slowly, slowly releasing the archer's wrists, but giving him little more freedom as he pressed their chests together, nuzzling against Daryl's cheek and neck.

“Next time ya try, I'll cuff ya to the bed. Never gonna let you go, Daryl. Not now, not ever.” 

He should have been scared, because he simply _knew_ Rick was serious. But how could he be scared when he was loved by someone so completely that losing him wasn't even a possibility? 

“A'right.” It was the only reply he could muster, but it must have been the right thing to say. Before he knew it, a calloused hand was being shoved down his pants, making him moan long before it wrapped itself around his throbbing cock. 

“Gotta be quick.” Rick breathed, giving Daryl a quick tug. “Judy's with us tonight.”

“Whatever, just do somethin'.” He simply couldn't take it anymore, it was too much, too fucking much and not enough at the same time. It was going to be embarrassingly short, he realized, as after only a handful of tugs, he could feel his orgasm building, hips bucking upwards desperately in an attempt to get more friction and, fucking hell, yes-

If Rick hadn't chosen that exact moment to kiss him, the whole prison would have heard just how much he was enjoying himself, and Daryl thanked any god that was listening that his Alpha knew him so well, well enough to know when he'd come, and to help him stay quiet.

Awareness returned slowly, and when finally he had come back to his senses, all he could think of was how fucking lucky he was. Despite everything that had happened, the one's they'd lost.. He'd found Rick and his family. His Alpha. And in his book, that was all that mattered. 

~~~*~~~

 

It had been 6 days since Rick had walked in on Daryl gathering his things. It had shook him to the very core that Daryl had thought he wouldn't want him anymore. The archer had been so close to leaving their cell, and it frightened Rick to think what would have happened had he not been there to intervene. 

And so, he had made sure to let Daryl know every single day how much he loved him. He'd kiss Daryl whenever he caught the archer, placed his hand on Daryl's thigh during meals. 

At night, Rick worshiped the redneck's body, covering every inch of skin with gentle caresses. Much to the brunette's annoyance, the ex cop took as much time as they could possibly afford, drawing out the foreplay and not giving in until he had Daryl whimpering into his fist, begging to be taken. Only then would Rick settle between the archer's wide spread legs, sliding into the tight heat that was Daryl, setting a slow, gentle pace.

It had been weeks since they had last been rough with each other, and Rick missed it just as much as Daryl appeared to. But whenever the archer dropped his clothing, the cop's eyes automatically settled on the new scar on the archer's chest, and was reminded that the one's that were responsible, were still out there. The fear, and the panic, and the ultimate feeling of being lost would rise up, tighten the sheriff's throat, and he just couldn't bring himself to be anything but gentle.

Even now, when he was on his knee's in the dirt, tending to his crops, the memory alone was enough to make his chest clench, his hands tremble. He couldn't go through something like that again, he'd break apart, shatter, with no chance of recovery. 

And tomorrow, Daryl would be out on his first run since the incident. Every fiber of the farmer's body screamed that this wasn't a good idea, that he had to keep Daryl safe behind the gates and fences of the prison. The world had become such a dangerous place, and fuck, how could he be alright with the man he loved running into his potential death?

“Rick, you got a minute?” 

Ripped from hos dour thoughts, Rick turned his head upwards.

“Sure, Michonne.” Pulling off the gloves he used for gardening, the sheriff stood, brushing the earth of his pants before finally turning his attention to the female. “Found somethin' interesting?”

“You could say that.” Michonne replied carefully, and Rick knew that whatever she had found couldn't be good. 

“A'right. Go on.” 

“I was checking the rabbit traps, and. I think I saw the one's that shot Daryl.”

Rick froze. They were here. They were close. 

“Did they see ya?” He ground out, trying his hardest not to let his rage cloud his judgment, not grab his gun and go out there himself to put a bullet into the person responsible.

“No, I got away before they saw me. But Carl mentioned something about the men saying they had 'claimed' the deer back then. These guys were talking exactly the same.” 

The cop startled as he felt a warm hand on his shoulder, needing a second to realize that he was being comforted. Giving a soft nod, he inhaled deeply, needing the moment to calm himself.

“Ya told anyone else?” 

The counsel had to meet, they had to talk about what they were going to do against these men. 

“Only you. Figured you'd want to tell Daryl yourself.”

Fuck. Rick hadn't even thought about what would happen when Daryl found out. He had no doubt that Daryl would go for his crossbow, and march out the prison's gate to find and kill the one's that had endangered Carl, that had shot him over a deer he would have given up willingly.

“Go tell Hershell and Carol. Tell 'em that the counsel is meeting in two hours. I need to talk to Daryl 'bout this before.” 

He didn't need to say more. Michonne gave a short nod and turned to leave, and Rick was grateful to her. He needed to figure out a way to let Daryl know, and not risk him running off to get killed. Whoever these men were, they were dangerous, and ruthless, and the sheriff didn't want his archer within a thousand miles of them. 

But first, he would have to find the redneck.

After checking their cell and the shower's, only to find them empty, Rick went to check the main room. And there Daryl sat, Judy bouncing happily on his knee's, squeeling whenever Daryl cooed at her, chubby little arms flinging around happily. It was such a domestic scene, Rick barely had the heart to disrupt it. But the matter couldn't wait, and the sooner he told Daryl, the more time the archer would have to come to terms with it.

“Daryl.” He called out, forcing a crooked smile, not wanting to alarm the other male. But of course, Daryl saw right through that, brows furrowing as he stood to hand Judy over to Beth, making his way to the sheriff within moments.

“Somethin' wrong?” Rick gave a small nod, not wanting to get into this in front of others. 

“Come on. Need ta talk.” He said instead, taking Daryl's hand into his own to lead him out of the large room, somewhere more private. It felt good to feel the work roughened palms against his own, equally calloused hand. It was warm, and strong, and reminded Rick that his lover was very much still with him. That he wasn't imagining things as he had when Lori had passed. 

They ended up in an empty cell block, and the sheriff couldn't help but recall how many times they had met up in a cell just like this. 

 

“Rick, the hell's goin' on?” 

Daryl was growing impatient, the ex cop could tell by the tightness in his voice, by the way the archer curled his fists at his sides, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. 

“Michonne spotted the guys that shot you. They were at one of our rabbit traps. She doesn't think they noticed her.” 

The words just came out, slipped over his tongue before he could stop himself, find a more delicate way to give the redneck this particular information. 

Daryl stood frozen for a second before scowling, eyes narrowing to slits, teeth bared. 

“Gonna go after 'em.” He snapped, making his way to the cell door, and Rick reacted out of instinct. Grabbing Daryl by the neck, he shoved the archer against the cold concrete wall within the cell, not caring for the painful sounding thud when the smaller male's back collided with the unyielding material.

“The hell ya will.” He snapped, practically plastering himself against Daryl, one hand still curled around his neck, the other curling into oily brown hair. “Ya hear me? I ain't lettin' you go anywhere near those fuckers, never again.”

“I got more reason than anyone else to-” 

“I don't care.” Rick interrupted, tightening his grip around Daryl's neck, the tremor rushing over the archer's form not escaping him, making his cock twitch despite his distress. This really wasn't the time to think about fucking, not when they had a serious threat almost on their door step. 

Daryl glared at him, blue eyes dark with what Rick had easily come to recognize as arousal. His gaze was drawn to those lips he loved so much, watching as teeth tug into the plush flesh of the lower lip, turning it a soft pink. And god, Daryl had to be just as turned on as he was, judging by the way his hips had started to rock against the cop ever so gently. 

They really shouldn't be doing this, Rick thought to himself. He had to stop this, as much as he hated it. He moved to pull away, loosening his grip on the male's neck, lips parting to form words. His plans were thoroughly destroyed seconds later.

He was suddenly on the floor, knocked down with such force that the air was forced from his lungs, leaving his gasping. It all happened too fast for Rick to really grasp what was going on. Daryl was on top of him, straddling his hips, teeth digging into the meat of the sheriff's shoulder, having roughly yanked the fabric covering it away. 

And God, he had missed this, the way Daryl was ripping at his clothes, growling and whining low in his throat as hips rocked downward, causing the perfect friction. The ex cop moaned helplessly, just now catching up, grabbing the archer's hips to pull him closer, to get more pressure, more sensation. 

“Gotta fuck me, Rick, ya gotta, please-”

Rick could barely comprehend the words pouring over him, arousal coursing through him, clouding his mind, leaving no rational thoughts behind, only want and need and heat. Daryl's voice forced him to listen, though, the way it cracked and strained with his pleads making it all to clear just how much he needed this.

Beyond words, all the sheriff could do was sit up, wrapping his arms around the rednecks chest, immediately moving to press open mouthed kisses against the length of Daryl's neck, biting and sucking whenever he found a patch of skin he liked, dark bruises blossoming under his administrations. 

Daryl was writhing in his lap, grabbing at the cop's shirt, his hair, anything he could grab onto as he ground downwards, forcing broken little moans past chapped lips whenever the pressure was _just right_ , greedy for more. 

“Fuck Rick, hurry up, I need ya, need ya now, _Alpha, please_ ”

Everything stopped. Rick stared, wide eyed, at the beautiful being in his arms. The archer had never called him that before, not once, but the way Daryl had said that one word.. It was too much too handle. He was on fire, burning up from the inside with need, lost to anything but those gorgeous blue eyes gazing into his own.

“Again.” He growled, shoving one hand between them, fumbling with the the button on Daryl's jeans, making the brunette thrust against his hand almost desperately, making the task of getting them open even more difficult. “Say it again, Daryl.”

“ _Alpha_ ” The archer rasped, moaning with relief when his pants finally came undone. Wasting no time, Rick rolled them over, ridding Daryl of his clothing until he lay bare before him, strong legs spread to give the sheriff room. 

Daryl was gorgeous, panting and whimpering, squirming under the ex cop's intense stare. The pale skin of his chest was flushed, perk little nipples standing at full attention, cock hard and dripping.. He was perfect, so fucking perfect it almost hurt to look at him. And all Rick wanted to to was pound into that perfect body, to claim Daryl by marking him with bites and bruises and come. 

“Mine, Daryl.” He husked, bringing his index- and middle finger to his lips, quickly covering them with saliva, his free hand rubbing soothingly along the archer's leg, keeping him calm . “No one else, ever again, Daryl.”

“No one, Alpha, no one.” Daryl replied, bucking his hips impatiently when finally a slick finger slipped into his tight channel. Normally, Rick would have taken his time to make sure Daryl was ready. Today, he had no such restraint. A second finger swiftly joined the first, opening the archer up none too gently, until Rick simply couldn't take it anymore. 

“Hand's and knee's, Daryl.” The whine the younger man gave as he was left empty once more sent a shock of arousal through his cock, already achingly hard and slippery with pre. Almost ripping off the button of the worn jeans in his attempt to get them open, he watched as Daryl turned over, legs spread wide and shaking, waiting for Rick to pound into him. It was a sight Rick never wanted to forget. 

Hastily pushing down the fabric covering his length, the sheriff didn't bother with undressing, simply shoving his briefs and pants down to the middle of his thighs. He couldn't wait, it wasn't humanly possible, not with Daryl spread and waiting for him.

One single, smooth thrust and Rick was completely sheeted, groaning loudly when he felt muscles twitching around his length, heard the broken cry of pleasure from the man beneath him. Without thought, he pulled back, only to bury himself to the hilt once more with a punishing thrust. Rick held nothing back, thrilled by the way his lover reacted, keening and whimpering, shoving himself back against each violent thrust eagerly. It was everything the sheriff had missed over the past few weeks, making him mindless him arousal, knowing nothing but the warmth that surrounded his member, the feel of skin slapping against skin. 

No more words were spoken between them, both too far gone to be coherent, fucking like a pair of animals, and Rick loved every second of it. The way they moved together, the way they seemed to fit together just right, seamlessly falling into place like pieces of a jigsaw puzzle. Daryl had been made for him, for him alone. 

It was over much quicker than Rick liked, but there was nothing he could do against the raging desire within. He was reduced to fucking into his archer with abandon, groaning and panting as he listened to the absolutely sinful sounds Daryl was making, driving him only to thrust even harder, each time hitting the sensitive bundle of nerves he had learned to find within seconds. And then Daryl was coming, practically screaming out his orgasm, tight muscles convulsing around the sheriff's cock, and Rick was lost.

He came so hard he almost collapsed on top of the redneck, barely managing to pull back before laying down beside the brunette, breathing heavily. They spent minutes in silence, neither moving as they recovered until finally, Daryl shifted until he was resting his head on the ex cop's shoulder, one arm flung over Rick's chest lazily. 

He wished they could lay here forever, to stop time at this very moment, and not have to worry about what came next. If only he had met Daryl before, the possibilities would have been endless.. But there was nothing he could do to change the situation they were in.

The silence became to heavy, and Rick had to do something to defuse it. 

“So. Callin' me Alpha, now, huh? I like it.” He teased, chuckling softly as the archer tensed up, pressing a soothing kiss to the sweaty forehead of the man he loved so much. 

“Shut up, Grimes.” Came the snarky reply, only serving to make the sheriff grin that much more. It didn't last for very long. Reality was coming back to him with a vengeance, reminding Rick of the tasks now set before them. 

“I love ya', Daryl. Ya know that, right?” 

It was an odd moment to say this, Rick knew, but it had to be said. He watched as Daryl propped himself up with an elbow, crystal clear blue eyes searching his face as if the hunter was trying to look into his mind.

“..Yeah, I know. I love ya, too.” There was a pause, and then. “We gotta go talk to the counsel. Figure out what to do.”

“Yeah. We do.” Rick sighed, running his hand over his face, feeling about a hundred years old. 

“Jus' five more minutes.” Daryl said, once more laying down beside the cop. “Jus' five more minutes.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's chapter two. I hope you enjoyed it. Thank you to everyone that commented, and/or left kudos!


	3. Chapter 3

“We have to deal with them _now_ , before they find the prison!” Daryl bellowed, fist slamming onto the wooden table he stood before, eyes narrowed. 

The Counsel sat around it, all of them worried. Rick could tell by the way Hershel's brows were furrowed, by the way Carol kept glancing at the hunter. Maggie and Glenn sat close to each other, holding hands. Michonne sat with her sword across her lap, looking almost wary. 

“We shouldn't risk an open confrontation.” Hershel interjected tersely, shaking his head. “Our fences and walls are high, and strong. We can further secure them. If these men do make it past them, we can still deal with them.”

“And what if we don' know they're comin'?” Daryl hisses. “What if they find a way in, and kill us in our sleep?”

“Daryl.” Rick reached out, gently placing his hand at the hunter's side. “I know you want to go after 'em. I understand better than anyone else. But Hershel's right. We can keep an eye on them, make sure they don't get close-”

“And put the watcher's life on the line!” In a fluid motion, Daryl shoved the sheriff's hand away from him, taking a step away from the entire group. “If they catch on, they're gonna kill whoever is watchin' 'em, and then they'll know about the prison anyway!”

“I'm with Daryl.” Maggie's voice was soft, but firm. Confident. “We can't hide behind these walls forever. Eventually, they'll catch one or more of us going on a supply run, or hunting. They don't seem to be going anywhere. We have to deal with this now.”

Hours of debate passed, and with each minute that passed, Rick felt more and more exhausted. It was straining, listening to the bickering and arguing, and all he wanted to do was go back to their cell and rest.

The sun had set hours ago when finally, they all agreed that they would discuss the issue again the next day, and make a final decision. 

Quietly taking Daryl's hand in his own, they walked back to their cell. His hunter was tense, on edge, and Rick knew that silence was the best option right now. Not that he would have had the energy to talk much, anyway. Settling onto the slim bunk, he wanted nothing more than to lay down with Daryl and sleep. 

“You really think we should hide an' wait?” Rick groaned.

“Daryl, can we please not do this right now.” He asked, a futile attempt of avoiding what he knew would be a fight. 

“You _know_ I'm right.” The archer growled, eyes narrowed, as he looked down on the sheriff. “You're just _scared_.”

“Of course I'm scared.” Rick snapped, feeling his patience wearing thin. Fuck, he knew better, knew he shouldn't let himself be baited like this but- 

“Then fucking _hide_ here, but don't make me sit and wait like a coward-”

There was no going back now.

“You call me a coward?!” He roared, getting to his feet as quickly as his aching body would allow, grabbing Daryl by the neck and shoving him backwards, until the archer's back hit the concrete wall with a painful sounding thud.

“You who was so afraid of people knowing you liked to be fucked by a _guy_ , who tortured me for months because of some stupid idea about fags-”

“Rick, shut up.” Daryl hissed, squirming against the wall, desperately clawing at Rick's hand. But he couldn't stop now, after all these months of worry, after all the fear and pain he had to endure, after Daryl being shot. It was all coming out now, in a rush of anger and desperation. 

“No, _you_ shut up!” He bristled, baring teeth as his grip around the archer's delicate throat grew harder, making Daryl splutter, now struggling to breathe. “You did this to me. You made me afraid of losing you, you _made_ me love you, and now I can't live without ya.”

“Fuck Rick, whole prison can hear you-” Daryl attempted, but Rick would have none of it. 

“Let them hear.” He growled, running his free hand through oily brown strands, tugging at them hard enough to make the hunter hiss. “Let them hear what you've done to me, Daryl.”

“Didn't do nothin'.” Daryl mumbled, eyes cast downwards now, avoiding Rick's gaze all together, but his body stilled, no longer fighting Rick.

“You did. An' now you have to deal with the consequences.” As quickly as his anger had come, it was gone at the submissive display. He released Daryl, only to pull him over to their bed, forcing him none to gently to lay down, before situating himself behind the other male. “You ain't goin' anywhere I can't follow, Daryl. I'm going to make sure of that.”

He received no reply. 

~~~*~~~

Daryl knew he was being stupid. But sometimes, a man had to do what a man had to do. 

He had tracked the men that had attacked him back to an abandoned building along the rail roads, and now he sat in waiting, hidden by shrubbery, crossbow at the ready. 

He had lied to Rick, had told him he was going hunting, and might be away for a day or two. Rick had begrudgingly agreed, knowing that their people needed the fresh meat to remain strong, and healthy. The council had agreed to postpone the meeting until Daryl returned, if only to sooth the archer. Everyone knew, sometimes, Daryl just needed space. Rick had joined him until they reached the fence, pressed a soft kiss to his cheek (Daryl was still uncomfortable with an actual kiss in public), and told him to stay safe. 

And Daryl had promised he would. That he'd avoid the ones that had shot him. 

If Rick knew what he was really up to.. fuck, Daryl didn't even want to imagine what that was going to be like. When he came back and told his Alpha the truth. That he had defied him, lied to him, and gone against a promise he had made. But he needed to get a better idea of what they were up against. So far, he had counted 6 men, all armed, dirty, and drunk. They came out to take a piss, and then returned inside, as if they had no cares in the world. As if they weren't living with walkers snatching at their heels at every turn.

“Daryl.” 

The archers head whipped around, blue eyes wide. Michonne knelt beside him, sword strapped to her back, giving him a lop sided grin.

“You didn't really think I fell for the hunting excuse, did you?” 

“Was worth a try.” Daryl replied, voice barely above a whisper. “You here to bring me back?”

“No. I'm here to cover your ass, should things go south.” Daryl couldn't help but smile, quickly turning his head back towards the building the men had occupied. 

“A'right. I can work with that.”

 

~~*~~

Rick hated seeing Daryl disappear into the woods, no matter how many times he reminded himself of the fact that the archer was more than capable of taking care of himself. He had made Daryl promise to stay away from any potential danger, walker and human alike, and Daryl had given him his word.

Still. With each hour that passed, Rick became more and more unnerved. Daryl had told him he'd be away until at least the evening, if not longer. You never knew when a horde would force you to take cover, or when the weather decided to interfere with the way home. He would bring back badly needed meat, which would benefit the entire community at the prison. Rick still hated even the thought of Daryl being out there, even more so when his tracker went alone. 

Judy had been restless the entire day, as if she could sense her fathers worry. Whenever the sheriff left her sight she would scream at the top of her little lungs, and he had no other choice than to return and hold her in his arms.

The sun was starting to set, Rick had just put Judith down for the night, when Carl came into his cell.

“Daryl's back.” His son informed him in a hushed tone. “Michonne's with him. I'll stay with Judy until you get back.”

Rick smiled, silently ruffling the boy's hair, a silent thank you passing between them before he made his way to the kitchen. Daryl would drop the game off in the kitchen before he went anywhere else, and Carol would be waiting for it. 

Just as expected, he found his archer with Carol, a deer placed on the table before them. 

Daryl had turned to face him, no doubt hearing the sheriff's steps long before he had actually came through the door. Rick moved easily into Daryl's space, brushing a kiss over the archer's stubbly cheek.

“Welcome home.” He breathed, feeling relief flood his entire body at the sight of his redneck, the warmth radiating off his body. Daryl was _safe_ , had made it back home to Rick, and for a few hours he would get to rest easy, knowing the tracker wasn't risking his life once again.

“Thanks.” Daryl replied, placing a hand at Ricks hip, squeezing it gently. It was the most intimate action the archer had ever displayed when they weren't alone, hidden from everyone else. Normally, Rick would have been thrilled at this kind of affection, but when Daryl refused to establish eye contact, gaze lowered to the floor, squirming a bit under the sheriffs gaze, Rick knew something wasn't right.

“Somethin' wrong?” He asked quietly, quirking a brow at the brunette. 

Daryl shook his head, but took Rick's hand into his own, pulling the cop from the kitchen and into the hall, into the empty cell block they had both come to know so well. 

“Gotta tell you somethin'.” Daryl finally said , once they were in one of the cells. 

“Tell me what?” Rick inquired, eyes narrowing at the fact that Daryl _still_ wasn't looking at him. 

The archer paused, standing only a few feet from Rick, fingers curling into fists at his sides, head still lowered. 

“Broke my promise.” The redneck blurted out, shoulders dropping just a fraction. 

“You _what_?” The words were growled, seemed almost unreal to Rick himself. Daryl had recoiled as if he had been struck, head hanging even lower now. “ _Answer me_. What did you do?”

“Just went to watch 'em. Wasn' a big deal” The tracker ground out between clenched teeth, steadily avoiding eye contact. “Know where they sleep now, how many-”

He didn't get any further. 

Rick had him pinned against the concrete wall within seconds, shoving Daryl against it so forcefully the breath was knocked right out of the archers lungs, making him dizzy, forcing him to gasp for air.

“You promised.” Rick snarled, grabbing Daryls wrists, forcing them upwards and against the wall, right beside the archers head. “Promised you'd go no where near 'em. Promised you'd stay _safe_.”

“I _was_ safe.” Daryl snapped, arching his back in a futile attempt to get the sheriff off him, jerking his hands downwards to try and escape the bruising grip keeping them in place, but it was no use. He was trapped here, he couldn't run, was completely at his Alphas mercy, and unlike the other times, he knew this time there would be no pleasure, no excitement between them. Rick was fucking _livid_ if the throbbing vein on his forehead was anything to go by, cheeks and neck flushed red. “I just watched, they never even saw me. We had to find out what we were up against-”

“And who gives you the right to make those decisions?” Rick barked, slamming the archers wrists against the wall, only succeeding in bloodying himself again. “We have a counsel. We make those decisions _together_! You don' get to just run off and do whatever the fuck ya _like_ , Daryl. Its not just you anymore. Don't you get that?!”

God, Rick was so frustrated, all he wanted to do was beat Daryl bloody, beat him until he was whimpering and begging him to stop, promising he'd be good, letting himself be chained to their bunk, to wait for the cop to return from the moment he left the cell, until Rick returned from a long day of gardening, or any other chores he had.

“Didn't give me a fuckin' choice! You were just gonna hide, wait for them to come to us. You think they would've left Carl alive? An' Judy? You think they wouldn't have put a bullet in her?”

That's when Rick snapped.

Without his consent, the cops body moved, punching Daryl square in the face, knocking him to the floor, releasing his wrists to allow the brunette's body to sink down. 

“An' if they had seen you?” He growled, glaring down at the archer. “Think they would've let you live? And if you hadn't been back in two days, think they'd let me live when they find me lookin' for you? Or Carl, or Carol, Glenn and Maggie? Ya think they would let _any_ of us live? You don't get it, Daryl. If you disappeared, we'd all be out there, we'd all be in danger. And you risked that why, because you couldn't wait for the counsels decision? 'Cause ya might not like what we decide?” 

Daryl remained silent, eyes down cast, knees pulled to his chest, arms curled around them. It was utterly devastating to see the usually so proud man cowering on the floor like a child, but _fuck_ , what else was Rick supposed to do, how else was he going to get Daryl to believe him that he _couldn't_ die, that the cop would lose his mind if he lost him.

“I ain't gonna do this anymore.” He breathed. Finally, Daryl's head snapped up, blue eyes searching for equally blue ones, shining with fear and maybe even tears. “I can't. I can't watch ya do this again and again. Riskin' your life because ya think it's a small price to pay for the groups safety. But it ain't a small price, Daryl. It ain't. Love ya too much for that.”

“What'cha saying.” Daryl asked, voice small, words barely loud enough to be heard. 

“I'm saying do whatever the fuck you want Daryl. Go hunt 'em, or hunt, or stay here in the prison. If ya still don't believe me when I say you matter, there ain't anything I can do. You gotta decide what'cha wanna be Daryl. You wanna be mine, ya listen to me. If not, then you have ta find someone that doesn't give a fuck about you. 'cause I can't stand it anymore.”

Nothing in Rick's life had ever been as hard as it was to turn and walk out of the cell, not even the time when he had broken it off with Daryl the first time. Not that Rick had really ended things between them now. He had given Daryl a choice. It was no longer in his hands.

~~*~~

Daryl sat on the cold floor for hours. He couldn't move, couldn't will himself to get up and leave. Rick had left him paralyzed, and not in the good way. The archer was almost hysteric, tremors shaking his body every few seconds, bile rising in his throat. 

_What had he done?_

The thought that he may have lost Rick forever was nauseating at best, heart wrenching at worst, and Daryl could barely keep himself from hurling into the empty cell. 

_Ya did it now, lil' brother. Made him leave again._

“Shut up.” He groaned, squeezing his eyes shut, shaken by another tremor. 

_Now now, Darleen. Ya only got me left. Managed ta run off the only person that ever really loved ya._

“Had to protect the group, had to protect _him_ ” Daryl whispered, not caring that he was talking to himself, that anyone would call him crazy if they saw him like this. “Didn' have a choice, _had to_ -”

_Ya didn' have ta do anythin', lil brother. Just a coward. Was gettin' too much for ya, got scared an' ran away._

“No, I.. That ain't why I did it, it _ain't_..” He couldn't help the whimper that escaped him, and god, he was fuckin' pathetic, no wonder Rick had gotten angry at him again, he just couldn't do anything right, couldn't even let the sheriff love him, couldn't accept love from anyone.

Why would Rick ever want something so damaged, so utterly worthless like him?

Daryl choked back a sob, refusing to let the tears spill from his eyes when he finally managed to stand, legs trembling dangerously below him. 

Rick had given him a choice, a last chance maybe, to be his. But what if by being his Daryl did more damage than good? What if, after everything they had gone through together, the moments they had shared, he just wasn't .. _right_?

Daryl remained where he was until the sun rose, exhausted and torn, utterly unprepared for another day in this fucked up world.

He would face it anyway.

~~*~~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long to update, especially since its so short, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! Thank you for reading <3!


	4. Chapter 4

Rick hadn't spoken to him since last night in the cell. Even when the council was gathered once more to discuss not only what they would do about the potentially dangerous group of survivors, as well as the new information Daryl had given them.

He had hoped, somewhere deep down, that Rick had just said those things out of anger, and fear, and that once he had been given a chance to cool down, his Alpha would seek him out. 

But Rick hadn't even bothered taking the seat next to Daryl at the meeting, ignoring the archers glance as much as the puzzled looks of every other person in the room. The ex cop had sat down as far away from the tracker as possible, and it was all Daryl could do not to get on his hands and knees, crawl over to the older male and nuzzle against a strong thigh, begging him for his forgiveness. 

“You shouldn't have gone out there alone, Daryl.” Hershel had stated somewhere during the conversation, and the archer's temper had flared, gaze flicking towards his Alpha, searching for any indication that another outburst would piss the sheriff off, because _fuck_ , he just couldn't upset Rick any more than he already had.

His Alpha had given him a glare, eyes narrowed, sending the redneck a very clear warning. Daryl had wanted nothing more than to lash out even more, but finally managed to shut down the part of him that wanted to tell Hershel to mind his own fuckin' business. 

“Better knowin' what we're dealin' with then not.” He had simply ground out, fingers twitching against his thighs. 

“Now that we do, what are we planning to do about it?” Carol asked, brows furrowed. “We could try to ambush them at night, maybe?”

“I still think we should just keep an eye on 'em. See where this goes.” Hershel replied, holding a worn copy of the bible in his hands. “Maybe we don't have to kill them.”

“They _shot_ Daryl. We should take them out before they hurt anyone else.”

“I agree with Carol, we should take care of this now, just like Daryl said two days ago.” Maggie agreed, glancing at her father. “I know you don't like the idea, but isn't it better to nullify a threat before it because a serious issue?”

Daryl huffed. This was going no where, _again_. 

“What do you think, Rick?” 

The ex cop shook his head as he was addressed, running a hand over his face, taking a moment before he replied.

“I think that no matter what we decide, eventually, someone will go after them either way.” 

He didn't have to say _who_ exactly he was talking about, not with the way the cop was eying him warily. He felt a lick of shame travel up his spine, because he had never seen Rick so defeated, while still in his right mind.

Had he done this? Had he broken his beautiful, strong Alpha?

Rick stood, one hand placed palm down on the table. 

“So we go after them.” 

~~*~~ 

After the meeting, Daryl had gone to help the group at the fences, violently plunging his blade into head after head of the undead crowding against the metal fence, attempting to get past it and make a meal of out one of them. It felt good to have something to do with his hands, a way to get rid of all the anger and frustration he felt, gnawing at his insides and making him sick. 

Carol had mentioned he looked pale, that he should lay down and rest, but there was no way he was getting even a _second_ of that, anyway. So he had shrugged it off and done what he did best. He walked away.

_What'cha gonna do now, hm? You gonna cave, lil brother? Get on your knees like a good bitch and take it?_

Meerle's words sounded condescending, maybe even amused, shaking the archer further apart. He wished he could just _stop thinking_ , stop hearing his brother's voice in his mind, because it was driving him insane. 

_Ya noticed how he didn' even wanna sit with ya? He finally figured it out, didn' he? That ya ain't good enough. You're weak, Darleena, always have been. Should just let it go, walk away like ya always have._

Another violent thrust into a walkers eye splattered Daryl's face with blood, but the tracker didn't even flinch. One after the other he took them out, concentrating solely on his task until someone placed a hand on his shoulder. 

Out of reflex alone, Daryl whirled, blade raised and ready to strike, heart pounding so hard with fear it fucking _hurt_.

He should have known there were only two people in this prison that dared lay a hand on him when he was like this, and one of them was standing right before him, giving him a small smile.

“Come on pookie. Lunch time.” Carol said, her voice warm and gentle, as if she was trying to coax a wild animal closer. And maybe that's what he was, after all. 

“Not hungry.” He growled, making to turn around and continue working, only stopped by Carol placing her hand on his arm, worry written all over her face. So now he was burdening not only Rick, but Carol too. _Fucking awesome._

“You have to eat, Daryl. I don't know whats going on between you and Rick, but if we are going after those men, you need to be at your best. And that means you need food.” 

He remained silent, glaring at the woman, knowing that it wouldn't make her run for the hills like it would every other person in this place, save for one of course.

“Don't give me that look. You know I'm right. Everyone else left for lunch half an hour ago. Its your turn now.” 

The archer glanced to both sides. Carol was right, he had been completely alone at the fence, and hadn't even noticed. He was getting distracted too easily now a days, was letting his mind drift too much. 

“Fine.” He ground out, cleaning of his blade on his pants before shoving it back into the sheet at his hip. They had walked together in silence for a few moments, before Carol spoke up again.

“So. What _is_ going on between you and Rick?” 

“Ain't none of your business..” The female stopped in her tracks, and immediately the archer felt guilt wash over him. He hadn't spoken to her like that in a long time, and he hadn't even _meant_ to. 

“Shit. 'm sorry Carol. Didn' mean to-” 

“I know pookie.” She interrupted, smiling at him, patting his cheek gently. “You can always talk to me, you know that, don't you?” 

“Yea. I know.” 

~~*~~

The look on Daryl's face when he silently refused to sit next to him had almost been enough to make Rick break down. But he couldn't just continue as if nothing had happened, couldn't _reward_ that kind of behavior. If he did, Daryl would never learn. 

So he picked a spot as far away from his archer as possible, hadn't spoken a single word to him, and hated how it seemed to make Daryl curl in on himself, hurt and insecure, and all Rick wanted to do was wrap his arms around the redneck, hold him close. 

But that was not an option, not with how things were going. 

Daryl had broken his promise, had put himself in danger _again_. He had been careless not only regarding his own life, but the life of those that cared for him as well. It was time that the archer understood that he couldn't act like a loner any longer. He had a family now, and that family didn't just consist of the cop and the kids, neither. There were so many others that would risk their life for him, and Daryl just didn't see that. 

He had done his gardening, as he had every day for months. He had fed the pigs, brushed down and watered the horse, and helped out anywhere else he was needed. The sun was starting to set as he sat on the floor outside of the main cell block, a tub of water before him, scrubbing at a pair of worn jeans. 

He had successfully avoided the archers presence so far, going to lunch and dinner much earlier than usual, and sticking to tasks he knew his tracker despised. Like washing clothes. 

So when Rick heard footsteps approaching, the sheriff was surprised to see his archer approaching, clothes in hand. It had been an easy day, concerning physical labor, but Rick still didn't feel like he had the energy to deal with this right now. 

“Move over.” Daryl breaths, kneeling next to the cop, but keeping their bodies far enough apart so there was no risk of touching. Rick had seen this behavior before, back when they had first started to get closer, back at the farm. Cautious, small movements paired with an unsure glance. 

Rick did. 

He moved to sit on the right of the tub, watching out of the corner of his eye as Daryl took over, cleaning the cops jeans with steady hands. Of course, there was no way the redneck was fooling him. Rick could almost feel how uneasy Daryl was, the uncertainty so obvious with the way Daryl kept glancing at him every few minutes. 

“Ya got somethin' ta say, Daryl?” He finally asked, still not turning to face the archer. If they were going to do this, they might as well get it out of the way now. They weren't alone, but it didn't matter, not now. He had done everything in his power to make Daryl comfortable, had kept even the most innocent displays of affection, and their arguments, in private. It wasn't going to go down like this today. 

“'m sorry.” Daryl whispered, shoulders tensing as the words fell from his lips, scrubbing at the pants he was holding with more force than necessary. “ Won' do it again.”

“Yes, ya will.” Daryl flinched at the answer, and Rick had to force himself to remain still, to quell the need to comfort and care for the archer, make that desperate look on his face disappear. “Gonna keep doin' this until yer dead, Daryl. 'cause ya don't care about yer own life.”

“... Ain't gonna die. I promised ya I wouldn't.”

The reply made Rick laugh, a broken sound forcing itself out of his throat. It made people turn their heads, stare at the pair of them. Daryl stared, too. 

“Whats so funny?”

“Just the idea. Thinkin' its somethin' you can promise.” Rick shook his head, lips still curled into a smile that felt wrong, even to him. “Ya can promise ta try, Daryl. Try ta stay safe. An' you didn'.”

Rick stood, slowly, his body aching with something that wasn't physical pain. Daryl stayed on his knees, head turned upwards to look at him, lips pressed into a fine line. 

“Gonna go check up on Judy. Gimme those, they're clean enough.” He held his hand out for his pants, watching as Daryl slowly pulled them out of the water and handed them over. Rick didn't say 'Thank you'. 

He just walked away.

~~*~~

Daryl had left his clothes where he had dropped them after joining Rick. They didn't matter. 

He had risen to his feet as quickly as possible, practically ran from the dozen or so pair of eyes that had been glued to him and Rick since.. _fuck_ , there was no way to describe the sound that had come from his Alpha. It had been painful just to hear, like nails scraping over a chalkboard, causing goosebumps to rise all over the archers body. 

Breathing had become painful, his chest felt so constricted, and he was pretty sure he shoved a few people on his way to his sanctuary so hard, they must have fallen. 

The second he had made it back to the empty cell block, Daryl fell to his knees. There was no way to hold back his tears any longer. They ran down his cheeks in fat, salty drops, over his jaw and along his neck. He could feel them dampening his shirt, could taste them on his lips. 

He felt so _wrong_ , so utterly broken he could barely manage to inhale enough oxygen to keep him conscious. The tears kept falling, and all the tracker could do was sit there, curl his arms around his chest and pray to whoever was listening that this would _stop_ , to find the strength to push all these feelings aside and lock them away so he could go back out there, be useful.

Rick hadn't looked at him, hadn't said anything about Daryl doing his laundry, had just left him where he was.. God, nothing had ever hurt this badly, not even when his momma had died in that fire. His Alpha pulling away from him was the cruelest punishment the archer could imagine, and he had gone through some pretty fucked up stuff. The scars on his back were proof of that. 

What was he going to do? How was he going to get Rick to forgive him, to show his Alpha that he _could_ be good, that he'd listen- 

But would he really? Could he be good? Rick had said he'd risk his life until he got himself killed. It sounded like something he would do.

It felt like hours until Daryl managed to get a grip on himself. His eyes were burning, the skin of his cheeks raw from stubbornly brushing them off with work roughened hands. He probably looked like shit, and there was no way in hell he was going to let _anyone_ see him like this. Still, he couldn't stay in here for the rest of the day. 

The watch tower was his best bet for privacy, and whoever was on duty up there was going to have to get the fuck out. Daryl would keep watch for the rest of the day. 

~~*~~

They assembled a group to go after the Claimers, as Carl had named them, the next day. Daryl watched as they prepared, Michonne with her sword, Meggie and Glenn cleaning their guns. Carol was shoving a blade into her boot, while Sasha and Tyresse spoke quietly to each other. Daryl had cleaned his crossbow in the watch tower last night, leaving him nothing else to do but wait for everyone else. 

“You good to go?” Michonne had asked him, and Daryl had nodded. He was more than ready to take those fuckers out. Maybe then Rick would forgive him. Maybe he could make the things go back to the way they had been before he had stolen away. Maybe Rick would leave his cell door open again, allowing Daryl to slip into bed with him. Last night, when Daryl had tried, it had been firmly tied shut. 

He had decided then that he would do whatever he had to. He'd give Rick whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it. He was incapable of living without the sheriff's affection, without his touch, not after he had felt what it was like to be loved by his Alpha.

Right after he killed the Claimers, he'd be what Rick wanted him to be. 

 

~~*~~

“You're going to pace a hole into that floor, Rick.” 

Rick didn't care. He'd keep pacing until the group was back. Until they were all safe behind the concrete walls once again. He had wanted to go with them at first, had wanted to join them. But the council had decided that he'd be needed back here. If anything happened, if they were caught, or worse, killed.. They'd need someone that could keep things going at the prison. 

The cop had hated it. Resented it with every fiber of his being. He wanted to argue, wanted to tell them that he was _going_ , no matter what. But how could he, when he was trying to teach Daryl that he had to listen to what he was told? 

And so he had stayed, with Carl and Judy, Hershel and Beth, and all the other survivors. Had paced along the fences, had sat in the watch tower for hours, watching the dirt road leading up to their home. He felt like a trapped animal, pacing its cage, looking for a way out. 

“Rick. They're going to be okay. They're strong. We have to be patient.” 

But how could he be patient, knowing his archer was out there, facing the men that had almost killed him? It wasn't that he didn't trust the people Daryl was with. He would trust them with his life. But it tore at his nerves either way. 

Night had fallen, and it wasn't a surprise that they hadn't returned. The plan had been to wait for a moment of weakness in the all male group, and take them down then. There was no telling when that would be. It didn't mean they were dead, it just meant they hadn't gotten a chance to strike yet. Rick forced himself to believe it, forced himself to hold on to that thought. 

Daryl _would_ come back.

~~*~~

It hadn't gone down the way it was supposed to. Not that it mattered now. 

They were dead. All of them. 

Daryl stared down at the lifeless bodies of the men they had just shot down. Watched as the blood leaked from the leaders skull, forming a crimson puddle in the grass. 

Somehow, they had been spotted. Had been forced into an open confrontation. They had been lucky. Had managed to take them out. 

“Daryl, we need to _go_!” Sasha hollered, holding up her injured brother. They had stashed the car a few miles from the building next to the rail roads. Had to get back to the prison, here Hershel and Doctor S could see to the wound in Tyresse shoulder, caused by a bullet ripping through him. 

He gave one more look at those dead eyes before he turned, running towards his group. Most had been grazed by bullets, but only one had been seriously hurt. It could have been a lot worse, and Daryl thought that somehow this should feel like victory. As the car roared to life, with Tyresse in the back seat, bleeding to death while Sasha wept and whispered to him that he would be okay, it didn't feel like anything but failure.

~~*~~

Tyresse hadn't made it. 

Had bled out on the backseat of a shitty Sedan. Sasha was a mess, of course. Rick hadn't seen her since they had returned. Carol and Bob were looking after her, trying to get her to at least eat. 

Daryl hadn't said a word when they returned, only helped carry the corpse to the part of the garden they used as a graveyard, and started digging. Rick had wanted to grab a shovel and help, not only because he was worried about the archer, but because he had felt useless the entire time they had been gone.

“Don'.” Daryl had rasped, shaking his head. “Gotta do this myself. Please.”

The sheriff hadn't liked it, could see Daryl's arms shaking with the effort of plunging the metal into the earth again and again, but he had backed off. Had stood and waited for Daryl to finish. 

After the funeral, he had taken his archers hand and silently walked him to the cell they slept in together, forcing him to sit down on the worn mattress. Neither spoke as Rick pulled off Daryl's shoes and socks, eased him out of his angel wing vest, cleaned the blood from his face, neck and arms. Daryl barely reacted, gaze fixed on the floor, breath hitching every few minutes as if something was about to burst out of him, before he swallowed it down again.

“Gonna be okay.” Rick finally said, once he had laid Daryl down on their bed, slipped in beside him and held him close. Fuck teaching Daryl a lesson. 

Right now, all that mattered was piecing his archer back together. 

~~*~~

It had taken Daryl three days before he felt even a little like himself again. All this shit at once had been too much. The only thing that had kept him together was Rick. That night, he had cleaned and soothed him, had curled up in bed with him until he had fallen asleep in his Alpha's arms. 

He hadn't left Rick's side since that day. Had clung to him whenever possible, buried his face into the sheriff's neck and inhaled his scent, soaked up his warmth and let himself feel safe. Nothing could touch him while he was with Rick, nothing at all. 

“Its gonna be okay.” Rick kept telling him, whispered it into his ear when they laid together on their bunk, legs tangled, arms wrapped around each other. Rick would kiss the spot below his ear, his jaw, cheek, lips, any patch of skin the cop could reach without dislodging their hold on each other. Daryl allowed himself to believe him, at least for the moment. To believe that somehow, they'd get through this. 

They had to.

~~*~~

“Gonna go back out tomorrow.” 

The archers announcement made Rick's head snap up from his book, blue eyes searching Daryl's face. 

“Ya sure ya can handle it?” Rick asked, closing his book to place it beside their bed on the makeshift nightstand he had made for them. 

“Yeah, 'm sure.” Daryl huffed, rubbing a hand over his face as he sat down beside the cop. He hesitated, glancing at Rick from the corner of his eye. “..That a'right with you?” 

“'course. You do what'cha gotta do.” Rick's brows furrowed as he placed a broad hand on Daryl's neck squeezing gently. “Ya sure yer ready?” 

“Yea. Jus' wanted ta make sure ya wouldn't..”

“Wouldn't be mad at ya.” Rick finished. The archer nodded, reaching up to cover Rick's hand with his own, holding on to it. 

“Don' ever want ya to be mad at me like that again.” He confessed, cheeks burning with embarrassment. He'd never been good at this emotional shit, never been comfortable with it. But he knew he had to talk to Rick. Mostly because he knew that's what his Alpha wanted. “I swear, Rick, didn' mean to piss you off that bad, was just tryin' ta help.” 

“I know, Daryl. I know ya were tryin' ta help. I do. Come 'ere.” 

Daryl didn't protest when he was pulled back against a firm, warm chest, turning his head to rest his cheek against it, inhaling the familiar scent of his sheriff. It felt good, to be held like this again. To know his Alpha loved him. 

“Not gonna do it again.” The archer breathed, lifting his face to brush a kiss over Rick's neck, nuzzling into the soft skin. “I promise, Rick. I ain't gonna do anythin' like that anymore. Gonna listen to ya.” 

“Yea. I know ya will. Love ya, Daryl. Ya know that right?” 

“I do.” Daryl let his eyes slide shut. “Love ya, too.”

~~*~~

Daryl was frustrated. There was no other way to put it. He was fucking _frustrated_. 

Every since they had returned from their mission, he and his Alpha hadn't had a single chance to be intimate. Something had always come up. Either one of them had to keep watch during the night in the tower, while the other slept alone in their bed. Mostly, they had Judith with them at night, and Daryl was about as enthusiastic about being intimate in front of a child as he was to lettin' himself be ripped apart by walkers. Rick, luckily, shared this sentiment. The few times they hadn't been around their daughter, they'd simply been too exhausted. With Daryl going on runs they were separated during the day as well, and there just simply wasn't _time_.

And now, Daryl wanted nothing more than to drag his Alpha to the empty cell block and _demand_ that Rick take care of the needs _he_ had caused. 

The archer felt his cock jump at the mere thought of being so close to his sheriff again, feel himself being stretched open and filled.. God, he fucking _needed_ to find a way to get them the privacy, and time, that they needed. By now, just being close to Rick was enough to make him hard, and he had been forced to quickly make for their cell and take matters in his own hand on more than one occasion. 

It was even worse today, the tracker could feel the cops eyes on him whenever they were in each others proximity, gaze so piercing it made him squirm. He wanted so much to just throw Rick down in front of everyone and take what he yearned for. 

Finally, when darkness had set, Rick had handed Judith to Beth before returning to their cell. Daryl could barely contain himself, shifting on the bed, unable to settle comfortably. Rick was standing not far from the bunk, shirtless, cleaning his neck and face with a damp rag.

“See somethin' ya like?” 

The question threw Daryl off, made him freeze, looking at the floor as if something interesting was to be seen. 

“Ya know I do.” He huffed, worrying the flesh of his lower lip with his teeth. 

Rick chuckled, dropping the damp cloth into the metal sink, walking over to the bar doors. Daryl watched intently as Rick double checked that it was indeed tied shut, and completely covered by the sheet that hung over it. If his Alpha was making sure they wouldn't be disturbed, then..

His cock went from half hard to rock hard within a second. He knew what was coming, knew he'd get what he wanted.. 

“Gotta be quiet. Think ya can do that, Daryl?” Rick questioned, turning around to lean against the metal bars, arms crossed over his chest.

Daryl nodded, a swift, jerky movement that was entirely too eager for his own liking, but fuck it. Rick was grinning at him, clearly pleased with Daryl's enthusiasm, and that's all that mattered. That Rick was happy with him.

“A'right then.” Rick moved over to the bunk, motioning for Daryl to sit at the edge for him. The archer hurriedly complied, moving until his naked feet hit the floor, eye level with his Alpha's groin, hungrily staring at the obvious bulge in the cops pants. He was about to reach out for it, desperate to taste Rick, feel the weight of his length on his tongue-

“Hold on, darlin'.” Strong hands took hold of his wrists, making it impossible for the tracker to get what he so desperately wanted. “Gotta be good for me, first. Then you'll get what ya want.”

Daryl swallowed. It reminded him of the time in the watch tower, Rick forcing him into submission. Except, he wasn't being forced. He loved submitting to his Alpha, even if he needed a push to admit it to himself sometimes. 

“A'right.” He rasped, agreeing to whatever Rick had planned before he could think too much about it. 

“Strip.” 

It was an order, and Daryl didn't hesitate even for a split second. He shrugged off his vest, pulled his shirt over his head, casting it aside. His belt and pants went next, until all that remained were the worn boxers, that did little to conceal his arousal. 

“That too, Daryl.” 

It was all the encouragement he needed, and so Daryl stood, pushing the fabric off his body almost roughly, before sitting back down. 

It was utterly humiliating, sitting on their bed completely naked, with Ricks eyes raking over his body, looking like he was ready to fucking _devour_ him.

“Beautiful.” Rick murmured, grazing his fingertips against the rednecks cheek, all the while regarding Daryl as if he was something precious, something to _cherish_. It made him all kinds of uncomfortable, but most of all, _it turned him on_. 

“So beautiful. Wanna see all of you, Daryl. An' yer gonna let me, aren't ya?”

“Yea. I'll let ya.” Daryl replied, looking up into his sheriffs face. He'd do anything, anything at all, if it just meant he could have Rick in return.

“Get on your hands and knees. Go on now, darlin'.” 

And Daryl did. He moved into position, feeling exposed and excited, waiting. He's shaking with want now, so ready to be taken that he wasn't sure he'd make it through this with his sanity intact. The first brush of hands over his hips made him jerk, taken by surprise, before pushing his hips backward, hoping to get some sort of touch, but was quickly reprimanded, hands grabbing onto his hips with bruising force. 

“Not yet.” Rick husked, and Daryl could almost _hear_ the grin on the sheriffs face. He enjoyed having Daryl at his mercy. Liked the way Daryl was trembling before him. “Want ya to open yourself up for me. Wanna watch.”

And how was the tracker supposed to refuse his alpha when his voice was so low, so rough, his arousal evident with every single word?

Shoving two fingers into his mouth, Daryl swiftly covered them in his spit, only as much as absolutely necessary before reaching behind himself, finding the tight ring of muscles hidden between firm mounds, wiggling his fingers until he could push in, trying to get in both at once. 

“Stop.” The growled word alone was enough to make Daryl whine, but he stilled his hand, ignored the way his hole fluttered against his fingertips. “Slow down. Don' want ya ta hurt yourself.”

“I can take it.” Daryl snapped, desperation peaking, slender hips bucking without his permission.

“I know ya can. Don't want ya to. Start with one. Nice an' easy.” 

The archer wanted to protest, wanted to whine and beg until Rick just _fucked him_. But he knew that no amount of begging was going to get his Alpha to speed things up, not when he was like this. And fuck, in a twisted, masochistic way Daryl _loved_ this. 

He had worked in two fingers when it started getting hard to keep the sounds of pleasure from escaping his lips, desperate little gasps echoing in their little cell. Rick's hands were still placed on his hips, holding him in place. He wasn't the only one enjoying himself, Rick's breath had become more and more labored with each minute that passed by, greedily watching his archer open himself up. Once or twice, he had added some saliva to Daryl's entrance, had rubbed his thumb over the tight little hole, making the archer want to howl out with pleasure. The pressure against his walls was _bliss_ , hadn't felt that in so long.. But he just couldn't reach that spot inside him, no matter how much he arched his back, or angled his hips.

“Doin' so good, Daryl, so perfect for me.” Each word forced another tremble through Daryl's entire body, Rick's voice doing things to him, the heat in his abdomen coiling tighter. “Come, jus' one more. Jus' one more and I'll give ya want ya want, fill ya like ya want me to.”

There was no way to suppress a groan, hips twitching eagerly as Daryl shoved another finger along side the first two, spreading himself open, scissoring his fingers until he felt his muscles relax, until he can't take it anymore. 

“Can't wait no more, gotta touch me Rick..” He ground out, barely able to hold back another moan, thrusting into himself with as much force as he could muster, thighs trembling dangerously. “Please, ya have to, ya _have to_ -”

“Shh. 's a'right babe, I got ya. Did so well, Daryl. Gonna give ya what you want now.” 

Relief washed over him like a tidal wave, turning his body almost boneless. Finally, _fucking finally_ , he'd feel Rick again, feel him hot and hard within himself. 

Rick flipped him over as if he weighed nothing at all, man handling the archer onto his back. The redneck spread his legs obscenely wide, fists curling into the thinning sheets beneath him. He probably looked like a bitch in heat, face flushed, panting heavily and so fucking _needy_ for his Alpha. Rick looked almost feral as he moved over him, teeth bared, growling low in his chest. 

“Hurry, _fuck Rick_ , hurry!” There wasn't any time left to waste, Daryl was burning up from the inside out, and he had been _good_ , he'd done what the cop wanted, he deserved-

Every coherent thought was taken from him when he felt himself being breached, head falling back with a grunt. Deeper and deeper Rick pushed, filling Daryl so slowly it brought tears to the rednecks eyes. 

“So perfect, Daryl, so gorgeous. Fuckin' perfect for me, everythin' I ever wanted. Love ya, darlin', so much.” Rick's voice sounded far away, echoed in Daryl's mind, hearing but not really grasping them. All he could think about was the length buried inside him, as far as possible, the way the sheriff rolled his hips in the smallest of movements, his crown pushing against the bundle of nerves hidden within, each tiny thrust causing stars to spark behind his eyes. 

It had never been this way, even after he had been shot. Rick was plastered to him, resting his entire weight on the tracker's body, keeping him firmly pinned beneath him, mouthing at his neck, his shoulder, marking Daryl, claiming him once more. 

Daryl lost track of time. He didn't know how long they rocked into each other, how many times Rick's hands curled into his hair and tugged, making him keen and whine, taking him apart piece by piece and putting him back together. 

He had been so lost to it all that his peak took him completely by surprise, and it was all he could do to muffle the scream into his fist, biting down on it so hard he could taste the coppery tang of blood on his lips. Seconds later, he felt himself being filled, scalding hot liquid filling him up spurt after spurt.

Rick was whispering sweetly into his ear, praising him, confessing his love over and over, holding on to Daryl like a man drowning. Daryl was barely able to react, feeling sated and suddenly exhausted. He managed to wrap one arm around his alpha, holding on as tightly as his sore muscles would allow, turning his head to trail kisses over a stubbly cheek. 

This was exactly where he was supposed to be. Right here, with his Alpha. 

 

And maybe, after all the horrors they had gone through.. they'd finally find some peace.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I felt so horrible for the short updates on this, I just had to write more. Thank you for reading, commenting, bookmarking, and giving kudos everyone <3!


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